


Thought and Memory

by Elandar



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Bit of Fluff, F/F, Mystery, Time travel weirdness, bit of angst, powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:10:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 69,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elandar/pseuds/Elandar
Summary: On the hill by the lighthouse, Chloe watches as Max goes back through the photo to erase their timeline and save Arcadia Bay. Terrified, she waits for the moment in which she will cease to exist, but it never comes. Something has clearly gone very wrong. They stumble back into the world, confused and unable to make sense of things. They had found Rachel, gotten Jefferson locked up, and the storm had passed. It was all supposed to be over. But if that's true, then why is everything still so messed up, and what's wrong with Max?





	1. The Lighthouse Ghost

Every muscle trembled, taut with adrenaline. Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms and her heart beat so furiously she could feel its pounding in her lips. The blowing rain had soaked her through to the skin, but Chloe scarcely noticed. She stared intently at Max, dreading the looming end of everything.

 _Do it b_ _efore I freak_ , she had said, bizarrely proud of how steady she managed to keep her voice. Now she was barely holding back the freakout. Everything seemed to be moving in agonizing slow motion, and with each second Chloe fought harder against the urge to yell out and stop this madness. Every instinct screamed for her to intervene. The fact that in a few moments she would simply cease to be was inconceivable. Her mind struggled to allow it. _Max will remember_ , she told herself again, repeating it like a prayer. _This is worth it._

" _... perimeter, as my step-ass would say. Now, let's ..._ " A gust carried a faint fragment of sound towards her. Her voice, words she could hardly remember saying. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Max stood a short ways in front of her, jaw set and eyes riveted to the photograph. At her feet a hazy shape began to coalesce from nothing. Chloe watched as it took form. Indistinct and transparent, an image of a different Max emerged. Shoulders shaking, she sat knees up and head down, curled small around herself. Her hair was dry and hung straight down untouched by the wind. The ghostly vision seemed to flicker and reform, weakly clinging to existence in the driving rain.

Again the wind brought her own voice to her ears, muted with distance but clearly terrified. " _... gun away from me, psycho_!" She had never said that. It was happening now, she realized. Her breath started to come in panicked gulps and she tasted blood at the back of her throat. When the gunshot came it was a weak pop like a firecracker in the next room. The phantom Max flinched at the sound and it echoed strangely on the open hilltop. Chloe didn't feel the shot, but vividly remembered how it would have felt. The bullet hitting like a punch to the chest, the tile of the bathroom floor cold underneath her cheek as awareness fled.

Reeling, she kept her gaze anchored on Max. Any second now she would be gone and she was not going to look away. The apparition faded swiftly as Max raised her head, arm falling to hold the photo absently at her side. Her eyes found Chloe's. The confusion on her face was plain. _Something had gone wrong_. Relief crashed through her, nearly buckling her knees. Blackness encroached on the edges of her vision and she swayed and gasped.

She found herself sitting, freezing cold and shaking uncontrollably. Max was there, arms wrapped around her, saying things she couldn't follow. Chloe clutched at her desperately, not understanding how she was still alive. The words began to make sense.

"It's okay," Max was saying in her ear. "It's over. You're okay."

"What happened?" She managed to ask, voice hoarse and shaky.

"I don't know." Max hugged her tighter. "It didn't work."

There was nothing more to be said. Exhausted beyond imagining, they huddled together in the dirt. The rain fell tirelessly and the wind pelted them with stinging grit as they watched the storm tear into Arcadia Bay.


	2. After the End

Pushed hard, the rusty truck rattled north up the coastal highway. Chloe knew she was driving like a crazy person, but she was banking on the authorities having better things to worry about than a speeding pickup. It looked like every emergency vehicle in the state was blowing past them going in the opposite direction, south towards Arcadia Bay.

She checked on Max again. Her eyes were still blank and staring, mouth still hanging partway open, but she was breathing evenly and her pulse was strong and steady. She was exactly the same as before, when Chloe had half-led half-carried her as they lurched up the lighthouse trail. If she hadn't already experienced it that morning, she would have been frenzied with panic. As it was, she was merely terrified.

 _Get her_ _dry_ _and_ _warm_ _and let her rest_ , the paramedic had said. Dazed after the storm, dripping wet and muddy, it had taken ages to stumble down the hill on shaky legs and drive south, weaving the truck around downed trees and their scattered branches. Both girls were goggle-eyed and gawking in drained disbelief. Twice they pulled over for ambulances headed out of the Bay, sirens screaming. They had only made it to the edge of the town proper before they found the road blocked by a clog of wreckage. Telephone poles and shattered lumber lay tangled with an overturned fishing boat. The Two Whales sign should have been visible just down the street but they saw only sky.

A few ambulances and firetrucks had parked wherever there was space, their flashing lights scattering weird reflections on puddles of rainwater. People in uniforms and safety gear yelled back and forth or listened intently to walkie-talkies. The air smelled of acrid smoke and ozone. Frantic for news of her mom, Chloe snapped when official looking people stopped her from running headlong into the rubble. Profane and tearful, she railed and shouted at anybody that came near. Later she dimly remembered trying to throw a punch.

A patient EMT eventually broke through her temper. He was dirty and disheveled, his bare arms raw with scrapes, but she thought she maybe recognized him from the diner. At first she didn't believe him when he assured her that Joyce was safe. Broken arm and a nasty knock on the head, he said, but safe and already on the way to the hospital. Stunned with relief, she almost missed it when his attention abruptly shifted to something behind her. Puzzled, she turned slowly to find Max sitting awkwardly on the ground, jeans ripped where she had skinned her knees hitting the asphalt. Her half-lidded eyes stared vacantly straight ahead.

 _Exhaustion_ , the confused EMT had said uncertainly after finding nothing noticeably wrong. It made sense, kind of. She was pretty sure they'd both been up since Wednesday morning, and who knew how much Max's powers had taken out of her. You don't control time without consequences. _There'll be too many seriously injured at the hospital to get her looked at. Take her somewhere for now, get her dry and warm and let her rest._

So that's what she had decided to do. Tossing Max's sodden sweatshirt in the bed of the truck, she shepherded her into the passenger seat and draped her own leather jacket over her like tucking in a child. They lacked any real place to go, so Chloe went with the only idea that came to her. There had to be a motel up the road in Franklin, and if not she'd keep driving until she found one.

Twenty minutes later they were entering the outskirts of the town to the north, passing a sawmill and trainyard on their right. Chloe yawned hugely, feeling fatigue hit her hard despite her knife-edged worry and the singular fixation on finding a place where they could rest. She slowed reluctantly as traffic began to occupy the potholed street and houses sprang up around them. Franklin was a larger town, famous among the youth of Arcadia Bay for its movie theater and bowling alley. Decidedly working class, it had all the glamour of a bigger, dirtier version of their hometown.

"Almost there, Max. Just a little longer," Chloe said and gave her hand a squeeze, wishing again that she would just wake up already. She wasn't sure how long it had taken last time. Thirty minutes? An hour? Surely this couldn't last much longer. _But what if it did?_ a quiet voice asked, and not for the first time. She shook her head sharply and banished the thought.

She nearly drove past the sign that popped up on their left a half mile later. _Free HBO & Wi_ _-_ _Fi_ followed by _VACANCY_ in big bold letters. Brain fuzzy, she hit the brakes late and took the turn much too quickly. Her teeth clacked together as a tire bounced hard over the curb then scored a rut through grass. She ignored the marked parking spaces and made straight for the door labeled _OFFICE_ , pulling up as close as she could to the building. The glove-box was a mess of empty cigarette packs and assorted junk, but she eventually found the handicapped fund envelope, weighted down under the heavy metal of the gun she hadn't thought to return.

She wobbled as she hopped down from the truck with a fistful of cash. The motel was two-storied, rooms opening southwest onto the parking lot and overlooking the sea a couple hundred yards distant. It was L-shaped in classic motel fashion, and reception occupied the short wing of the faux log-cabin building.

Bells clanged as she shoved the office door open. It flapped on its hinges to rebound against the wall with a bang. A short woman, white haired and bespectacled, emerged from the back room to stand at the counter. She started when she saw Chloe, then took off her glasses and peered at her with grandmotherly concern. She kept staring as Chloe strode up.

"Honey, are you alright?" the woman asked with a frown.

"I will be when you give me a room," Chloe replied, and slapped the bills down on the counter-top.

"Are you sure?" She leaned forward to get a better look. "I can call somebody, if you want."

Chloe didn't know what good that was supposed to do. She glared at the woman and pointed silently towards the keys hanging from the dark wooden pegboard behind the till.

The actual transaction was a blur. She couldn't even remember how much she had paid for the room, but she shortly found herself standing outside holding a cheap plastic keychain engraved with _#3_ _._ She cast her eyes about. Ground floor, third room down from the office. _Not far_ , she thought thankfully as she opened the passenger door and reached across to undo Max's seat belt.

"C'mon, Max. We're here. Move your ass." Chloe grabbed her under the armpits and gave her a gentle pull, bracing to take her weight as she tumbled clumsily from the cab. One arm wrapping her up tightly, she led Max carefully down the walkway to their room. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the white-haired woman watching from the open door, the concern on her face replaced by alarm at their unsteady shuffle.

Inside, she steered Max towards the bed, where she sat slumped over as Chloe headed to the bathroom for towels. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, the woman's reaction in the office suddenly made sense. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her, puffy and half-crazed, and she was absolutely filthy. Her face and neck were dark with windblown grime and tear-tracks trailed lighter lines down her cheeks. She must have bitten her lip hitting the curb on the way in - blood glistened redly on her chin.

Max looked just as pitiful as she did, she saw as she returned with a stack of towels, swaying slightly. With a sigh, she crouched down in front of her and softly began to clean her friend's face and hands, dropping the dirty towel lazily on the floor when she was finished. It had been more than an hour since the storm passed, and their clothes were beginning to dry. Still uncomfortably wet, but no longer clingy and dripping. Chloe had thought she might get Max out of her wet clothes and wrap her up in blankets or something, the way people did in movies, but that felt ridiculous now. Max seemed warm enough, and her thin t-shirt would probably dry quickly. Besides, Chloe was dead on her feet - the amount of effort it would take was unthinkable.

She settled for easing her back onto a stacked pair of pillows and covering her with the remaining towels. It would do for now, she decided as she fought the powerful desire to crawl into bed next to her. She didn't want Max to snap out of it and find her dead to the world and drooling. There was a pair of fabric-backed chairs flanking a tiny round table in the corner. Her jaw popped as she yawned, and she slowly dragged one of them up to the side of the bed.

"I swear to god, you better wake up soon," she said quietly as she sat down and brushed stray hair out of Max's face. "This shit is fucking killing me." A hand hung limply off the side of the bed. Chloe pulled it into her lap and leaned back, finally relaxing.

The fact that she was still alive felt strange and slightly unreal. The idea had come to her last night, just a whisper at first. But the closer they came to the lighthouse the louder it got and the more certain she became that she was right. That dying would fix everything, save everyone. She meant it, and she had been ready. Terrified beyond belief, but ready. She didn't understand what had gone wrong. That ghostly image stuck with her, burned into her memory. Max balled up and shaking, dry in the pouring rain. Max had gone back, she was sure of it. She had seen it, had heard it and felt it. Why hadn't anything changed?

She rubbed her eyes, trying to put those thoughts away for the time being. This wasn't the place for them, not with her brain running on fumes. Another yawn forced its way out of her, and she slid down far enough to rest her head on the back of the chair. She gripped Max's hand a little tighter and let her eyes close for a minute.

Her phone buzzed insistently, shattering some murky half-dream. Confused, she sat up blinking and fumbled at her pocket. The light coming in from the windows had changed slightly, she noticed, and Max was now curled up on her side, eyes closed and snoring softly in actual sleep. Chloe smiled to see it as she pulled her phone free. The number wasn't one she knew, but she stepped outside to answer it anyway, lighting a cigarette groggily as she walked towards the door.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is this Chloe?" The voice was a little familiar, but sleep fog had yet to lift and she wasn't sure. Whoever it was, he sounded stressed.

"Yeah?" she answered, exhaling smoke. Feeling a pang of nerves, she imagined some white-coated doctor calling from the hospital to deliver the Bad News.

"Thank god you still have the same number. This is Ryan Caulfield. Listen, I really hope this isn't as much of a long shot as it feels. We're trying to find Max, but she's not answering her phone and we don't have anybody left to call. Nobody's picking up."

"Her phone's still in the car, I guess," she said stupidly. There was silence. Gears turned slowly inside her head until something clicked into place. The freak storm would be all over the news by now. Max's parents had to be so worried. "Oh! Oh shit. Yeah, she's with me. We're fine. She's okay. Sorry, you woke me up and I'm still super out of it."

There was a happy commotion on the other end of the line as he set the phone down. She could hear Vanessa's voice in the background mingling with Ryan's. They must have left work early. When he eventually got back on the phone, it was difficult to get him off it again. Not that she hated talking to him, far from it. She just couldn't figure out how to tell him there was _no fucking way_ she was waking Max up to talk to them without it sounding very strange. Promising to have her call the first second she was awake finally got him to reluctantly hang up.

Her mom didn't know she was okay yet, either, she realized with a guilty shock. She called her as she stood outside and slowly finished her cigarette. It went to voicemail, as expected, but she couldn't think of any other way to get in touch with her. The message she left was short and to the point - she was with Max, they were both okay, they had found a motel room. After some deliberation, she called David and left a message letting him know that she and Mom were alive. He at least deserved that much, she decided.

Business taken care of, she tossed her cigarette and walked back inside. All of her thoughts focused on falling into bed and staying there for days. Hunger ate away at her empty stomach, but sleep was a far more attractive lure than food at the moment. She dragged herself over to the bed and sighed with pleasure as she sank down onto it. It felt entirely natural when she rolled over to drape an arm over Max, pulling her close. She fell asleep immediately.

 

* * *

 

The bed shook and there was the sharp snap of a light switch. Chloe groaned and opened one eye. Squinting against the glare, she made out Max's silhouette, sitting up and backlit by the lamp on the bedside table. The sun had fully set and the only light inside the room was the soft pool cast by the tiny lamp. She watched as Max took in her surroundings in apparent confusion.

"Morning, sunshine," Chloe said, and was immediately tackled. Max wrapped her up in a hug that threatened to crush the air out of her.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked as she rubbed her back. "You scared the absolute shit out of me earlier."

Max nodded against her shoulder. "Yeah. Where are we?"

"Drove up to Franklin and found a motel. You went all zombie on me again."

"I think I remember ... " She felt Max stiffen. "The paramedic. He was saying ... is Joyce alright?"

"Yeah. He said she's okay. Hurt, but okay. Lucky he was there when you went down again. I would've lost my shit alone. Oh, and before I forget - your dad made me swear you'd call as soon as you woke up."

"Later." Max released her and sat back cross-legged. "Holy crap, do I look as bad as you do?"

"Way worse. Be happy I didn't kick your ass out of bed." Chloe smiled and then got serious again. "No, actually. I cleaned you up a little. But what happened? I mean, were you, like, conscious at all? Do you remember anything?"

She shook her head slowly. "Just dreams. Weird-ass fucked up nightmares. I promise I'll tell you all about it, but later, okay? I don't want to think about any of it right now. All I want is food and a shower. And then maybe more sleep."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want." Chloe looked around for a clock, checking out the place for the first time. Everything seemed pretty new except for the floral wallpaper and the drab painting of a sailboat that hung above the television. Small but clean, it was as generic as a motel room could get. _8:41_ , read the clock on the nightstand - still early. "We can order a pizza or something, but the shower part might be a problem. It's not like we packed for this."

"Oh. Yeah." Max glanced down at her ripped jeans and stained shirt. "Franklin?" she asked.

Chloe nodded.

"There used to be a K-mart next to the movie theater. Do you think it's still there?"

"I dunno, probably," Chloe guessed. "Supply run before food?"

"Seems like a good idea. And I can call home from the car. I bet Mom and Dad are freaking out."

Chloe bounced up and slapped her pockets checking for car keys. "Alright, sweet. Let's go. The quicker we do this the quicker we can eat."

Max laughed. "Jeez, at least wash your face first. You're gonna scare the locals."

She had a point, Chloe thought as she turned towards the bathroom. "Alright, alright. Gimme a sec while I go get myself up to your unrealistic standards of cleanliness."

 

* * *

 

The hot food and hot shower had left Chloe warm and pleasantly dozy. Wearing a gray and formless sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, she stood in front of the mirror, lazily brushing her teeth. Max had complained good-naturedly when she saw the clothes Chloe bought them, but they were comfortable and cheap and they did the trick. Her call with her parents ran predictably long, so Max had stayed in the truck while Chloe went shopping by herself. Inside, she haphazardly dumped items into the cart as she wheeled it down the aisles at speed - packages of tube socks and plain white t-shirts, deodorant and toothpaste, a loaf of bread and some peanut butter - anything that seemed useful, really. She topped it off with a carton of Parliaments, vaguely enjoying throwing the cash around.

Back at the motel, they took turns in the shower while waiting for their food. Chloe had emerged, finally clean, to find Max already eating and utterly engrossed in some Animal Planet thing on TV. She plopped down next to her and grabbed a slice, and soon the two of them were grinning and awwing at baby lions while they stuffed themselves with pizza until the box was empty. By some wordless agreement they both left what had happened in the Bay alone for the evening. Chloe thought maybe Max felt the same way she did, that this reminded her too much of their childhood to spoil it with thoughts of storms and time travel. Not their crazy and awesome pirate adventures, but the regular days spent just sharing a space together, enjoying the company without a need for anything else. This, more than everything so far, made Chloe feel like Max was actually back again.

Socked feet padded into the bathroom as Max joined her at the sink. Smiling, she worked a brand new toothbrush out of its packaging.

"Something funny?" Chloe asked, almost unintelligible around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Not really, just thinking about how many times we've done this."

Chloe spat and reached to fill a glass from the tap. "What? Ran away to a cheap motel? Pretty sure I'd remember that."

"No, you goof." Max bumped her with her hip. "Brushed our teeth together. It's gotta be hundreds."

"At least. You practically lived at our place in the summer." She swished some water around her mouth and suddenly remembered a thing that drove Max crazy when they were kids. Smirking, she waited until Max caught her eye in the mirror and then leaned her head back to gargle theatrically. The elbow that dug into her ribs was fully expected, and Chloe let herself be kicked out of the bathroom.

Settling down on the bed with the remote, Max's phone startled her as it rumbled on the nightstand. She glanced over idly and frowned when she saw the name that appeared.

"Hey," she said once Max had joined her. "Why is Victoria Fucking Chase texting you?"

Max grimaced and picked up her phone. She stared at it for a moment. "I didn't tell you. She sent me some super strange texts last night. I saw them while you were shopping. It's almost like ... here, see for yourself." She scrolled up a ways and passed the phone over.

 

**Victoria 10/11 2:33 am**

_Wtf is going on call me pls_

**Victoria 10/11 2:36 am**

_Im serious maxine call me immediately_

**Victoria 10/11 2:36 am**

_Let me know ur ok at least_

**Victoria 10/11 7:04 am**

_Ignore th_ _at_ _._ _Obviously still totally high from the party._

 

**10/11 9:09 pm You**

_I'm_ _okay_ _._ _Hope you_ _are too_ _._

 

**Victoria 10/11 11:21 pm**

_This will sound weird, but did we talk last night?_

**Victoria 10/11 11:21 pm**

_Or go someplace together?_

**Victoria 10/11 11:25 pm**

_And I'm okay. Thanks. At my father's in Portland._

 

"I don't get it." Chloe chewed on her lip as she leaned back and looked at Max. "What was she freaking out about? Did you even see her yesterday?"

Max fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt for a while before speaking. "How much did I tell you about the other realities?" she asked finally.

"Um, nothing," Chloe answered. She had forgotten that Max had said she wouldn't remember the previous night. "Just what you said outside the party."

"Right. I wouldn't have known about a lot of it yet. Shit, this is so confusing." She rubbed her eyes. "Okay, so in the reality where the other version of you was ... in an accident, Victoria and I were friends. She called me Maxine."

Chloe stared, confused and slightly anxious.

"And then last night, before I changed things, she was there with me. In the dark room. He took her too."

She winced at the idea of Max down in that place. The thought didn't sit right. It made her skin crawl. "Are you thinking she remembers it somehow? Is that even possible? I don't remember anything other than what actually happened."

Max gestured at the phone in Chloe's hand. "I mean, it definitely seems like she does, don't you think? At least some of it." She sighed. "No idea how. Maybe it was the drugs or something?"

They were silent for awhile chewing on the possibilities. "Okay," Chloe said. "It's hella weird, but does it actually matter? All that shit is over. So what if she might kinda remember some of it. What are you gonna tell her?"

"I don't know." Max shook her head as she began to pull down the covers. "But I sort of wanted to ignore this for now. Let's figure it out tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Good idea."

Lying in the dark, Chloe realized the spell was broken. The brief peace they had found had fled. It might have been the talk of Victoria and the dark room, or just the simple fact that thoughts are louder in the night, but her mind raced and tumbled over itself. It dredged up images and notions and flung them around with no regard for decency. The way the storm had roared as it consumed the town. Rachel in the dark room. Max, ghostly and small on the hill. Rachel in the junkyard. Rachel at sixteen, smiling and lighthearted in her bedroom.

Sleep was out of reach for tonight, she decided after what felt like hours. It was a familiar feeling. Careful not to jostle Max, she swung her legs off the side of the bed and looked around for her clothes. The moonlight was tinted strangely and bright through the gaps in the drapes. She got dressed quietly and was halfway to the door before Max's voice stopped her.

"Where are you going?" she asked softly.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep. I'm just going outside to smoke."

"I wasn't sleeping either." Chloe saw her sit up. "Can I come?"

"Yeah, _o_ _f course_ you can come. Please." The relief that she wouldn't be alone with her thoughts was real. She waited patiently as Max threw on her oversized sweatshirt.

The view as they opened the door stopped her short and Max bumped into her from behind. Wispy bands of pastel greens and purples snaked brightly across the horizon. They seemed to breathe and writhe slightly as she stared. Far from a common sight in Oregon, it was nonetheless something Chloe recognized.

"Holy shit, northern lights?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, um, from the south?" Max stepped up next to her. "It looks like it's coming from the Bay. Is this weirder than the double moon thing?"

"I have no idea."

Max followed her to the truck and they hopped up to sit in the bed. They settled back against the cab and Chloe smoked as they watched the sky. It was beautiful in an unsettling sort of way.

"What happened last night?" Max asked out of nowhere, evidently giving up her hope of avoiding things for the night.

"I keep forgetting you don't remember." Chloe exhaled away from Max and tapped her cigarette over the side of the truck. "We went straight back to my place after your message from the future and got David to come over. It was pretty easy to convince him that something was going on with all the shit we put together. After that he made a bunch of calls and took off. A few hours later he called to say they found Jefferson at the bunker. At least that's what you told me. You took the call, I was a fucking mess. I pretty much cried on you all night. Almost literally, I think."

"I'm sorry. I wish I remembered."

"Dude, it's not your fault, don't be sorry. You were awesome." Truthfully, she was almost relieved that the previous night had been effectively erased. There had been very little good in it for either of them. Still, Max deserved to know what had happened, at least. "When we stopped running around like crazy people it started to sink in. I mean, I think I already knew she was gone, I just never let myself actually believe it. Not _knew_ knew, but still. I'm not stupid - nobody disappears like that for months and then turns up fine. And there is _no fucking way_ she wouldn't have said something to me. Sure, we fought every now and then. She couldn't deal when things didn't go her way, and I'm ... the way I am, so it got ugly sometimes. But we always made up and hugged it out. _Always_. Even when ..."

Chloe stopped and shut her eyes. Her voice was trembling as she started to ramble. "Sorry," she said after a shaky drag off her cigarette. "I want to tell you about it, about everything, but I've gotta stop or this is gonna be last night all over again."

"It's okay, don't force it," Max reassured her. "It doesn't need to be now. We have all the time we want."

"We actually do, don't we?" Chloe laughed, surprising herself. "That's still hard to believe. I was so sure it would work. At the lighthouse. That it would be the end."

"Me too. I can't believe I tried to do that. The first time you asked, in the other world, I was sure there was no way I could _ever_ go through with it, even if I wanted to. I was right, I guess." Max's face was somber in the peculiar light. "I hope it wasn't as bad as it looked. I don't think I could forgive myself if -"

"Max, none of it was your fault. You did nothing wrong. We tried _everything_ we could."

"I know, but still." She didn't sound convincing. "It was so terrible, way worse than I thought it would be. I can't even imagine how it must have been for you. I've never wanted anything less in my life. Maybe that's why I couldn't make it work."

Chloe cocked her head and turned toward Max. Something seemed off about that statement. "Wait, what do you mean couldn't make it work?"

"The photo. I couldn't do it. I just stared at the stupid thing and nothing happened."

"Max," Chloe began slowly, "that can't be right. I _saw_ you go back. I heard my voice, exactly like it was the other day. You definitely did _something_."

Max stared at her, dumbfounded. "What?" she finally croaked. "What did you see?"

Chloe took her through it, pausing frequently to think back and carefully find the right words. At the end, Max seemed no less stunned. Her mouth hung open as if she had wanted to say something but changed her mind at the last minute.

"No clue what it means," Chloe said, mostly to fill the silence. She fished for ideas. "I don't know, could past-you have woken up after now-you left and then rewound to undo what you did? Does that even make sense?

"Yeah. Maybe. Or ..." She seemed reluctant. "What if I used the butterfly photo again, later? To change things back after you died."

"Whoa, are you serious? Do you think you would do that?"

After a few seconds Max shook her head. "I know I'd want to - I'd miss you so much. But if it _actually_ worked and the storm really didn't happen, I don't think I could. Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Me neither." Chloe couldn't conceive of Max being that selfish, but her imagination ran with the idea anyway. She pictured this version of Max fading from reality without warning, being replaced by some slightly different variation. She didn't speak the thought out loud, knowing Max must already be sharing it. "Maybe we'll figure it out eventually, but for now I'm okay to just exist."

Max nodded, her disquiet still unmistakable. Chloe shifted to get an arm around her shoulders. The angle was awkward and uncomfortable, but she didn't move after Max leaned into her. Together they watched the odd colors in the sky until the sun began to peek over the hills to the east.


	3. Home Again

_The dream Chloe finds herself in is hyper-realistic, almost painfully vivid. Everything is too bright and too loud, the colors glossy and brilliant. She knows it's a dream because it's the same dream it's been for years. The familiar road on a warm summer day, the steering wheel under her hands, the same song on the radio._

_"Hey Dad." She doesn't turn to look, knowing he'll be in the passenger seat next to her._

_"Hi honey," her father says in the relaxed way he always does. That voice he used to have where you could hear his smile without looking. "Looks like you finally made it."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Out of Arcadia Bay."_

_"Oh. Yeah. Not really how I imagined it, though."_

_"I guess not." He pauses and Chloe hears a long sigh. "I'm glad Max is with you."_

_"Me too. Really glad. I just wish Rachel could've ..." She stops, unsure what she means to say. There's so much she wishes Rachel could have done._

_"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It's never gonna go away, but it'll get easier, eventually. Like it did with me."_

_"I know," she acknowledges reluctantly. Not trusting her voice, she doesn't say more. The two of them quietly watch the scenery pass by. She's never been sure where they are, exactly, or if it's even a real place. It could be any road in western Oregon, or none of them._

_"We're almost out of time, Chloe," William breaks the silence. "So just remember to be careful, okay? You know things still aren't - "_

_"Out of time?" At that Chloe finally looks over. "Why?"_

_He nods his head towards something in front of the car. "You have a visitor."_

_Curious, she turns her eyes back to the road. Immediately in front of them another car has materialized from nowhere, sickeningly huge in dreamlike exaggeration. She yells and saws desperately at the wheel, but it's already hopeless. The dream dissolves in a chaotic tumble of noise._

 

* * *

 

Someone was shaking her. Blinking, Chloe forced her eyes open and tried to concentrate. The windows were just starting to lighten and the motel room was still too dim to clearly see. Max's face came into focus, the handle of a toothbrush poking out from between her lips. She smelled clean, like shampoo and mint.

"Hey," Chloe rasped. She cleared her throat and sat up. "I'm okay."

Max patted her shoulder and headed back towards the rectangle of light that was the bathroom door. Chloe frowned. If she was up and showered this early, that meant another restless night. After a weekend of watching Max, concern was beginning to deepen into worry. It was more than just the insomnia. Whatever the weirdness was that had taken her away on Friday, Chloe was afraid it might have stuck around. There hadn't been a return of full-on zombie mode, thankfully, but more than once Chloe thought she'd caught Max staring blankly off into space, and not in a lost-in-thought sort of way. She insisted she was fine, but Chloe wasn't sure she believed it. She wondered again if this was something she should push Max to talk about. That felt wrong to her, though, like a violation of friendship somehow. Max had never kept anything even remotely important from her before. _But y_ _ou haven't seen her in years,_ Chloe thought, _things may be different now_.

The sound of the faucet ceased and Max stepped back into the room. "Sorry, you sounded like you needed waking up," she apologized, misreading Chloe's expression.

"Don't worry about it." Chloe waved it off. "I was making noise?"

Max nodded. "But I couldn't make out any words. Nightmare?"

"Not really," Chloe explained. "I get these dreams, sometimes, ever since Dad died. The two of us in a car. Pretty used to it by now."

"Oh. Are they always bad?"

"Hard to say. I don't usually get them that often anymore. Mostly they're just kinda neutral. They were seriously fucking twisted a few years ago, though."

"Do you mind telling me about them?" Max sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Uh, sure. Gonna need some coffee and a shower first, though."

"Okay. We can talk on the way."

It took a second for it to come back to her. Today was Monday. Joyce and David were supposed to meet them at the house after they left the hospital. She hoped that was the reason Max had gotten out of bed. "Oh yeah. Duh. How much time do we have?"

"Plenty. We could probably stop for breakfast, if you want. I know you need your caffeine and empty calories in the morning."

"There's nothing empty about jelly donuts, Max." She stood and stretched. "They're full by definition."

"Just go take your shower, you dork." Max flopped back on the pillows. "I'm ready whenever you are."

 

* * *

 

It was unbelievable, she thought, just how ordinary everything seemed. The same birds wheeled over the same hills, the same defaced billboard stared down at her, the same too-red house across the street caught the eye unpleasantly. From this point of view, if she kept her eyes off the detritus on the roadside, today was just like any other chilly fall day in Arcadia Bay. Even the sound of chainsaws in the distance felt normal - it was easy to imagine people outside doing yard work, lawnmowers or leaf-blowers buzzing.

Chloe sat down on the low concrete wall that surrounded her lawn and struggled to light a cigarette. The lighter wasn't cooperating in the cold breeze. Behind her, her house still stood, but only just. Chunks of roof and siding were stripped away and no windows remained intact. The dormer covering her desk area had been ripped free completely, exposing her bedroom to the storm. Inside they'd found a strange mess of dirt and water damage, and David had said that the cracked walls and crooked doorways came from the building shifting slightly off its foundation. The house behind hers, she had seen, was hit much worse. Its roof had simply evaporated, and much of its upstairs furnishings were now piled against the back of the Price home along with her childhood swing-set. It made her think of some kind of apocalyptic snow drift. Beyond that neighbor's house, damage was more easily measured by what remained rather than what had been taken, and if she looked just a little farther, nothing remained at all.

Her house wasn't livable, but it was safe enough to go inside and salvage anything important. At least, that's what David had said when they'd gotten there that morning. While he worked outside tacking up plastic sheeting and Joyce busied herself in the living room, she and Max had gone upstairs. It took seconds to stuff a plastic garbage bag full of soggy clothes, but ages for them to go through what was left of her room. They found and rescued some mementos of the two of them, of course, but Chloe's mind had been set on finding anything she had saved of Rachel's. It didn't matter what, she needed to preserve whatever she could find. After an eternity of searching she was left with a little metal box of memories. A handful of photos, a couple soggy concert tickets, a postcard with bleeding ink, and a backless earring that Rachel had lost years ago and never found. That was it. It made her sick. She silently stuffed the little box in her jacket pocket and went outside to smoke, ignoring both Mom and Max.

She pulled her jacket tighter and sucked angrily at her cigarette, suddenly realizing how much she wanted to leave. Simply being here had been making her intensely uncomfortable all morning - not home specifically, but the town in general. She couldn't place the feeling, and wasn't sure she even wanted to. It was a crawly and cold kind of thing that she didn't like. The chilly, gray day did nothing but make it worse.

It had been great, though, seeing her mom again after a weekend of only phone calls. The hospital had been total chaos since the storm, and if you weren't in pretty grim condition, you weren't getting visitors. They just couldn't handle the volume, Joyce said she'd been told. Chloe was concerned they'd discharged her early, but from the moment she stepped out of the car, she was just the same as always, wrapping Chloe and Max up in hugs despite the sling and not letting their matching sweatsuits slide without some motherly teasing. She was a little loopy from painkillers, maybe, but definitely still Mom.

From the driveway behind her she heard a clatter followed by the thunk of a car door. A throat deliberately cleared - David trying to get her attention. She ignored him. Joyce hadn't filled her in on his status after last week's spy camera shitstorm, and she hadn't bothered asking. She still couldn't stand him, as a person and as a parent, but she felt a reluctant respect after what he'd done for them Thursday night, and what Max had said he'd done before she changed things. There was no chance of a relationship between them - he'd had his shot and blown it - but she imagined it might be easier to tolerate him.

Footsteps started in her direction. "Chloe, come here and help with this."

She exhaled a forceful cloud and swore under her breath. "Not now," she said tiredly, fully expecting him to talk right through her objection. Instead, the footsteps turned around and she heard the trunk pop. Maybe the respect went both ways - they had, after all, cracked his case in a week after he'd spent months pretending to be a private eye. Or maybe he just understood a human emotion for once.

"- already talked to them, it's totally fine." The front door opened and Max's voice floated over. "They sounded excited to see Chloe again."

"I'll have to find some way to thank them," Joyce replied as the two of them came slowly down the walk. "They're real lifesavers. There's just not enough space at my mother's for all three of us."

Chloe stomped out her cigarette and stood, brushing off her backside.

"Chloe!" her mom chided. "How many times do I have to tell you? Throw your butts in the damn trash."

That made her grin, and, strangely, she felt a little better. "Definitely gonna miss getting yelled at by you."

"Well, enjoy it while you can." Joyce looked at Max. "Somebody'll need to cover for me while you two are away. Think you've got a handle on it?"

"Don't worry, Joyce, I'll make sure she behaves." Max tried a serious expression and almost pulled it off.

"We should get going," David called from by the car. "It's a long drive."

Joyce sighed and pursed her lips. "He's right. It's a good eight hours or so to Boise. C'mere." She held out her good arm and Chloe moved in to hug her goodbye. "I love you, sweetheart. Don't give Ryan and Vanessa too much trouble."

"Love you too, Mom. I won't. Call when you get there, okay?"

"I will." She turned towards Max. "You too, honey. Get over here."

Max smiled and returned the hug. "It was great seeing you. I wish it could've been for longer."

"Likewise, Max." Joyce stepped back and gave the two of them a long look. "I'm just so glad to see you two together again, especially now. It does my heart good knowing she's got someone like you around."

"Me too," Max said. "You have _no_ idea."

Chloe wondered if her mom caught the intensity in Max's voice. Judging by the look on her face, she probably had. Always uncomfortable being the focus of this kind of attention, Chloe cleared her throat. "Enough mushy shit. We've got places to be."

"Chloe Price, can't I take two seconds to say goodbye to my girls?"

"Not when you're all high on pain pills! You're gonna make me gag."

"Okay, okay. We're leaving," Joyce laughed as the three of them started for the car.

After another quick round of hugs and an awkward handshake for David, Chloe stood on the sidewalk with Max, watching the car pull away. They drove slowly, moving carefully through the rubble that remained on the partially cleared street. The cleanup crews had been working hard to make the roads passable, but Chloe had seen so far today that two fully open lanes was a rarity.

She raised her eyes and gave the house a last look, gaze lingering on the plastic flapping in the wind trying to break free of its staples. Broken windows glinted in the grass. The half-finished paint job wasn't such an eyesore, she realized, now that half the siding was gone. It looked like a different building. The idea that she'd grown up here came across foreign and strange. Little Chloe and little Max in their swing-set pirate ship. Dad reading bedtime stories. Christmases inside by the fireplace. Rachel climbing quietly through her window late at night. It felt like a different life.

She felt her friend's hand find hers. "I'm sorry, Chloe," Max said softly.

"Don't be. It's just a house," she lied, swallowing the lump in her throat. "It wasn't the same, anyway. After Dad."

Next to her Max shivered and tried to press a little closer.

"Let's go," Chloe said. The feeling was back again. It made her feel squirmy and not quite right.

"Are you sure? I don't want to rush you."

"Yeah, no reason to stick around. Besides, it is hella cold out here."

Max's forehead wrinkled and she shot her a funny look.

"What?" Chloe asked. "Did I say something?"

"Nothing. Just deja vu. Do you still feel like going to Blackwell?"

"I guess." She really didn't, but the prospect of a second trip to the Bay sounded even worse. "We've gotta get your stuff before we leave for Seattle, and we're here now, so ..."

"Yeah." Max didn't sound too excited either.

"C'mon." Chloe pulled lightly on her hand. "We can crank the heater in the truck."

 

* * *

 

She kept her eyes trained on the blacktop in front of the car as she drove, trying to tune out the devastation on either side of them. They'd been corralled back to the coast by detours, then forced to take the main road through the center of town to get up to the school. It had turned a five minute drive into a horrible twenty minute tour of the destruction left by the storm. Before she instituted her "no looking" policy, Chloe had seen several groups of people working with trucks and winches and big yellow machines, sifting through the remains of homes and businesses. Some might have been cleaning up or salvaging property, but she couldn't escape the fact that others were surely searching for the people that were still missing. She despised that thought and tried not to think it.

"Are you okay?" Max asked from the passenger seat.

"I'm fine," she said reflexively, a second later realizing how wrong that was.

"No you're not. You look like you're trying to snap the steering wheel in half."

Seeing a clear section of sidewalk, Chloe abruptly pulled over, tires jumping the curb roughly. She sat, staring at her hands on the wheel, and prodded cautiously at the feeling she'd been ignoring. Tried to tease apart the confused tangle, to put it into words.

"I wanted this," she said finally. "For years. It was always our dream to leave. Me and Rachel. But even before I met her, I wanted to get out. I used to have these fantasies where you'd show up and be like ' _Hey Chloe, sorry I left_ _you_ _all_ _alone in this_ _miserable_ _shitpit_ _, let's move to New Zealand,_ ' or wherever."

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Max wince and turned to face her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Not totally." She took a breath and continued. "Point is I fucking _hated_ this place. I used to think I'd be happy if the whole town just got totalled. That's pretty much what I wanted, actually. I wanted you to come back, I wanted to burn this shithole down to the ground, and I wanted to leave."

She laughed and didn't like the way it sounded. A little choked up and kind of crazy.

"And now, hey. You're here, we're going to Seattle, and Arcadia Bay is fucking flattened. Great. Wish granted."

"What?" Max's voice was high-pitched and extremely confused. "Chloe, none of this was your fault. There is _no way_ you could blame yourself for -"

"Huh? No, that's not it," Chloe interrupted. This was starting to sound like a bizarre reversal of their conversations over the weekend. "I guess I'm kinda grossed out by myself. That I thought this shit was something I wanted." She waved a hand towards the town beyond the windshield.

"You were lonely and angry. I know you didn't mean it. _You_ know that."

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know. But that's not..." She growled in frustration. This wasn't coming out right. "That's not the point, though. It's like ... You being here. Us leaving together. It's like an actual dream that I had for a long fucking time. And I think I might be okay with the town being gone if it means it's real. I think maybe I'm _glad_ the photo thing didn't work."

Chloe swallowed nervously and looked up at Max, who stared at her, wide-eyed and speechless.

"Super fucked up, I know. I feel like a fucking -"

Max fumbled to unlatch her seat belt and slid across the bench seat towards Chloe, wrapping her up in a hug. "It's okay to be happy you're alive. It's totally normal. I am too."

"Yeah, but -"

"Shut up," Max said into her shoulder. "You were willing to give up everything to save this place. How many people would do that? You're fucking amazing, Chloe. And _we tried_. We tried everything we could. It's okay."

Now this _was_ a reversal of their weekend talks. _It's not your fault. You did everything you could_. She remembered Max Saturday after their sleepless night in the back of her truck - glued to the TV news, tethered to her phone watching updates roll in. The names were mostly meaningless to Chloe, but the handful of Blackwell ones were clearly not so to Max. At some point that morning it turned into an unhealthy, nearly masochistic thing, and Chloe had dragged her outside to get away from it all. They had spent hours talking.

Chloe sighed. She knew Max was right but it still didn't feel that way. "I know that, but it's still ..."

"Shitty? Yeah. It is." Max tried to sit back, but Chloe didn't let her.

"Yeah." Chloe squeezed her tighter. "Thanks. You're pretty amazing, too."

"Urg," she croaked, squirming to get free.

Chloe grinned and released her. "Sorry."

"No you're not, you jerk." Max slid back across the seat and buckled up. "We don't have to keep going if you don't want to. We could just go back to the motel."

"I'm good, I think." Chloe pressed the clutch and jiggled the stick into first. "We're almost there. Let's just finish up and go."

She pulled the truck back out onto the cluttered street, still skittish but no longer as intent on blocking it all out. After a few minutes, Blackwell's tower became visible over the top of the rise.

"Hey, we're good for money, right?" Max asked thoughtfully. "Like, we could afford to stay at the motel a little longer?"

"Dude, we have mad cash. We could stay for weeks, probably." Chloe shifted down to tackle the hill. "I thought you were excited to go home and see your folks."

"I am. But when we get there, I want to be happy to be there. I don't want to have to pretend everything's alright if it's not. A little more time could help, I think. Both of us."

"Oh. Yeah, I get that. We can totally stay. However long you want. Your Mom's not gonna like it, though." Her parents had relaxed a bit over the weekend, but it was still a struggle for Max to talk them out of driving down to get her. Chloe doubted they'd be very receptive to them staying.

"It'll probably just be a few days. She'll pull through. You don't mind?"

"No way. There's free HBO, Domino's, and my dorky best friend to make fun of. " Chloe reached over and patted her leg. "It'll be kickass."

"Says the dorkiest person I know," Max laughed. "The food plan needs some work, though. I think my body's gonna revolt if we order pizza again."

They rounded the last curve and the campus came into view. The storm had skewed northward as it veered through town, clipping the edge of the school with its last breaths. Through the windshield they could see the twisted metal roof of the pool building crumpled in one corner of the parking lot, and shingles and stray tree limbs were scattered across the lawn. Wind had uprooted the statue of Jeremiah Blackwell in front of the main building, and he lay prone, feet propped up drunkenly on the rim of the fountain.

Across the street, the football field was crammed with large, military-style tents. Set up, presumably, as temporary shelters. They were gray canvas blobs silhouetted against the gray sky, and people milled about between them or huddled just inside the entrance flaps in an effort to keep warm. There was no hint of the scoreboard or the bright yellow goalposts.

Chloe slowed and coaxed the truck over the curb, gingerly this time. She waved off Max's objection. They were packing up a dorm room - no way was she going to park all the way out on the road. Barely fifty feet in they were blocked by an evergreen down in a snarl of branches. She nosed the car up as tight as she could before silencing the engine.

"Well," she said as she set the hand brake. "Last stop."

As soon as her door slammed, a gust caught her jacket and set one corner flapping. She zipped it up and pulled her cap down a little tighter.

"Wowser," Max said from across the hood. "Did it get, like, _way_ colder since we left your house?"

"Yeah." Chloe found footing on the tree trunk and vaulted across. "Hope you have a coat in your dorm."

They entered the dormitory courtyard, hurrying to get out of the wind. A handful of broken windows and fallen branches seemed to be the only sign that the storm had come through.

"Which room's yours again?" Chloe asked.

"That one. In the corner." Max raised her arm towards a pair of windows on the second floor. One was badly cracked, but both were intact.

"Score. All your stuff should be fine."

The two girls were quiet as they entered the darkened building and climbed to the second floor, Max nearly tiptoeing in the unlit stairwell. Every other time Chloe had been here, it was raucous with music and laughter and drama. The stillness was jarring, and she felt like an intruder as they walked down the corridor past the empty rooms. Despite the oppressive silence, Chloe couldn't help but laugh when Max's door swung open. Inside was Max in room form.

"Holy shit, this is like hipster headquarters." she said, taking in the paper lanterns and posters. The light from the windows was enough to give the room a drowsy late-morning warmth despite the grayness outside. She stepped in past her friend and peered around. "Did you _actually_ hang up vinyl records?"

"Somebody was gonna throw them out," Max explained from behind her. "I thought they looked too cool to end up in a landfill."

To her right, a wall jammed with photos caught Chloe's eye. Ignoring the childish red paint marring the collection, she knelt on the mattress for a closer look. Some shots seemed carefully composed, others were clearly taken quickly in a flash of opportunity. Simple everyday scenes, people, snaps of random anything expertly recognized as displays of unplanned beauty - each had some pose or feeling or spark of color that perfectly captured a moment. Chloe was astounded.

"Wow," she breathed. "These are really fucking good. I mean, I knew you were good, you've been taking pictures, like, _forever_ , but this is some seriously amazing shit."

"Thanks," Max replied absently. Chloe looked back to find her barely inside the room, gazing around with an odd expression. One arm crossed over her body to grip her elbow. Recognizing the pose, Chloe waited for her to share her thoughts.

"Can we just pack quick stuff today? Like some clothes?" she eventually asked.

"Are you serious right now? We drove all the way over -" Chloe stopped to wrestle with annoyance. She took a breath and rubbed her face.

"Sorry," Max grimaced. "But there's something ... I _really_ don't like being here. At Blackwell. I just have a bad feeling."

"What sort of feeling?" Confused, she didn't want to push too hard, and let it drop when Max shook her head. Maybe it was thoughts of classmates who didn't survive, Chloe thought. Or Jefferson. She tried to smile. "Okay. We'll be quick."

As they packed, Chloe spotted a few heavy snowflakes floating in the breeze outside the window. She nudged Max, who looked up and shrugged. "At least it's actually cold this time," she commented before turning back to her clothes. Chloe had to agree.

 

* * *

 

The snow fell steadily as they left the campus and drove slowly down the hill. It was quickly starting to settle on the downed trees and buildings. Max had relaxed as soon as they left her dorm, and now she sat sleepily in the warm cabin next to Chloe, duffel bag at her feet and backpack on her lap. The hum of the engine and that weird softening of sound that accompanies snowfall were strangely calming, like white noise from a fan or the low murmur of a large crowd.

Max's phone dinged somewhere in her bag, sending her fishing. It dinged again, then three more times before she finally found it. Chloe bit her lip and tried to keep her mouth shut. Judging by the sudden barrage, it had to be Victoria. It seemed like she had believed it when Max told her that nothing happened Thursday night, but it hadn't done anything to shut her up. The two of them had been texting back and forth all weekend. It irked her that Max had decided she was worth paying attention to.

"Hey," Chloe blurted out after Max stowed her phone away. "I get that you're way too nice to tell her to fuck off, but you don't _have_ to talk to her." _So much for keeping my mouth shut,_ she thought.

"I know," Max replied patiently. "But she's really not that bad. She's been kinda nice, actually."

"What? She's never been anything but an absolute piece of shit to everybody for, like, forever. How is she _nice_?"

"Only kinda nice," Max clarified. "I think she's lonely. Her best friend turned out to be a psycho and then got murdered by her idol. Some of her other friends didn't make it through the storm. And now she's staying alone at her Dad's while he's out of town. She just needs somebody to talk to. Besides, she's different without people around, like she doesn't have to show off, or something."

"Oh." Chloe felt like an ass when Max put it like that, but she had to smile. That was Max, always finding the good in people. "You really are too nice. Must be why I keep you around."

"I knew there was a reason," Max said, leaning forward to look through the windshield.

Their way was blocked up ahead. Chloe stopped smoothly and regarded the pair of wreckers that were parked across the road. Nearby, just past the sidewalk, a small group of people stood. Some wore bright orange vests and hardhats, a couple seemed like locals bundled up in hats and coats. Something was happening.

"Can you see what's going on?" Max craned her neck for a glimpse past the trucks.

Chloe shook her head. "Nope, but it doesn't look serious. It looks like they're just standing around."

She hit the horn lightly a few times. A man in a safety vest waved to them and tapped his neighbor on the shoulder. As they walked over to move their trucks, Chloe had another look around. They were at the police station, she realized. She'd been here enough times to recognize it by the red brick corner of building that remained standing. Still, she saw nothing to indicate what everybody was so interested in.

The way ahead open, she eased her car back into motion before registering what was visible now that the trucks had moved. She stopped short, the seat belt cutting into her chest. The corner of the building wasn't just intact, it was perfectly preserved. Even the hedge lining the foundation was pristine. Everything within a ten-foot radius was untouched - no scattered branches or stray bricks, no broken glass, just a flawless ring of well-mulched shrubbery and neatly mown grass with a dusting of snow. The radius continued up the side of the building, as if some deity had placed this particular corner under a protective dome for some unfathomable reason. The panes of the lone window weren't even cracked - they seemed to have been cut with a compass, describing the same perfectly smooth arc as the neighboring brickwork.

"Are you seeing this?" Max asked nervously from beside her.

"Kinda hard to miss." She replied. Mr. Safety Vest was returning, so she rolled down the window and waved him over. His bushy gray mustache and the ponytail peeking out from underneath his hardhat seemed familiar. She knew him from somewhere, she realized. Probably the diner.

"Thought I recognized that truck!" he said when he got close. "You're Joyce's -"

"Yeah," Chloe cut him off impatiently and pointed. "What the hell is that?"

"Couldn't tell ya." He took off the hardhat and rubbed his forehead where the strap had left a mark. "It's stranger'n shit, and there's another'n just like it a few hundred yards down that way." He waved his hand vaguely. "Some fella over there's sayin' it might've been freak wind patterns. I don't buy it, though, what with the glass the way it is. I'm thinkin' maybe it coulda been an electrical thing. Lotta lightning in that storm. I'm just surprised nobody noticed 'em 'til now. We were workin' all over this area yesterday, and they're pretty goddamn hard to miss."

"This wasn't here yesterday?" Max piped up with surprise.

He laughed loudly and popped his hat back on. "Course it was _here_ , just nobody saw nothin', is all."

A car horn sounded briefly at their back. Chloe raised a hand in farewell and hit the gas, rolling up the window to keep the heat in. The snow was coming down harder now, and they pulled away onto a rapidly thickening blanket of white on the asphalt.

"Whatever that was, I'm pretty sure it wasn't from wind or lightning," Max said. Chloe could hear the tension in her voice.

"Yeah," she agreed. "So shit is still a little weird, apparently. We knew that already, though. Maybe it's just aftershocks or something. There was weird shit before the storm, so why couldn't there be weird shit after?"

"I guess." Max didn't sound convinced. "I really hope that's all it is."

"Me too, Max," Chloe said, meaning it wholeheartedly. Max didn't deserve any more of this bullshit.

By the time they neared the outskirts of town, it was snowing harder than either of them could remember. Chloe could barely see through the blowing snow, and headlights did nothing but reflect back at them off the snowflakes. Terrified of losing the road, she drove slowly, bent forward and clutching the wheel tightly with both hands. It wasn't supposed to snow like this in Oregon, especially not in October. She didn't mind a couple inches for Christmas, but this was insane, like a supernatural blizzard straight out of a movie.

A shape loomed suddenly out of the whiteness, much too close on her right side. She yanked at the wheel reflexively and her stomach lurched as she felt the tires lose traction. _The city limits sign_ , she realized, catching a brief glimpse of it as the truck began to slide. After a few moments of panicked fishtailing, she managed to wrestle everything back under control. She looked over to find Max breathing heavily and holding a white-knuckled grip on the door. The Oh-Shit Handle, her dad used to call it.

"Another great day in Arcadia Bay," Chloe said dryly, quoting the sign that had nearly sent them into the ditch.

Unexpectedly, Max burst out laughing and Chloe couldn't help but grin along with her. It felt good to hear her laugh. There hadn't been nearly enough of that recently.

"Oh my god," Max said when she calmed down. "I am _so_ ready for this day to end."

"I know, right?" Chloe agreed. "No way am I moving once we get back to the lair. Just give me a pillow and the remote and I am _done_."

"I _did_ bring my laptop." Max patted her backpack. "So no more settling for Animal Planet or crappy TV movies. We have Netflix and video games - the pinnacle of modern entertainment."

"Hell yeah, Max. Always thinking about the important shit."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll even let you help me level my paladin," Max suggested. Her smile said she was already sure of what the answer would be.

Chloe made gagging noises. "Not a chance. And _of course_ you have a paladin. That's so Max."

"I still think you'd like it if you gave it a shot."

"And it's still not true, no matter how many times you say it. I'm like literally allergic to MMO shit."

"Pretty sure you mean figuratively," Max corrected.

"No, literally. My head swells up like a basketball. It's messed up."

Silence dragged on too long from the passenger seat. Chloe risked flicking her eyes away from the road to look over at Max. Her face was slack, eyes fixed on some point beyond the windscreen. It was happening again - she wasn't unconscious, she just _wasn't_ _there_.

"Max," She reached over and shook her leg. "Hey." Max's head turned very slightly to face her. After a moment she breathed in sharply and grabbed for Chloe's hand.

"You okay?" Chloe gave her hand a squeeze.

"Yeah." She sighed and rested her head against the door.

"Are you sure?" Chloe already knew she wouldn't get a straight answer but asked anyway. "You went a little strange for a second there."

"Just tired, I guess." Max wrapped up Chloe's hand in both of hers and made it clear she wasn't returning it any time soon. Chloe let her have it. She'd have to change gears eventually, but she could do without it for now.

 _Okay, s_ _he_ definitely _went away this time_ , she told herself, hating the certainty. _This is for real. Y_ _ou can't just let_ _her ignore this_ _._ She took a deep breath, but her words died on her lips as she looked over. Max really did look tired. Tired and frightened. This wasn't the best time to insist on this conversation, Chloe realized, especially not while trying to navigate through a blizzard. She settled for what she hoped was a reassuring smile and turned back to the road. _Tomorrow_ , she resolved, hoping Max would be able to rest later. Worry churned in the pit of her stomach.

The snow lightened as they distanced themselves from Arcadia Bay, turning to rain after just a few miles. By the time they were stepping out of the truck in the motel parking lot, it had diminished to nothing but a light and steady drizzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one got away from me a bit. We're not as far as I thought we'd be after two full chapters, but we'll get there. Thanks for reading!


	4. Double Exposure

Chloe squirmed in the hard plastic chair. It seemed to have been made for someone of not quite human proportions, and she could not get comfortable. This was the first time she'd ever had to use a laundromat, and it was exactly how she'd imagined it would be. It was all white tiles and silver machines, and the cloying reek produced by years of too much fabric softener was starting to give her a headache. In the corner a TV blared endlessly at a slightly annoying volume.

_"Joining me now to share the scientific community's perspective on the recent events in Arcadia Bay is Dr. Ian Baldwin, professor of physics at Oregon State University. Dr. Baldwin, welcome to the show. Have you and your colleagues come up with any theories that might explain the strange reports that have been coming in since last week?"_

The local news guy was wearing entirely too much makeup and hairspray. He looked like a smarmy mannequin, Chloe had noticed with distaste. The image on the television shifted to an excited man in a rumpled suit.

_"Thanks for having me on. First, I have to say that I can hardly claim to speak for everyone in my field, and second, people are still a long way from a consensus. This is one of the rarest and most exciting things in the natural sciences - a terrestrial phenomenon we've never encountered and can't yet explain. It will take some considerable time to develop any concrete theories."_

"I never thought our little corner would get this much attention," said the frumpy woman sitting across from Chloe as she turned a page in the month old _Us Weekly_. "It's just a shame it has to be for something as unpleasant as that business down in Arcadia Bay. At least they caught that awful teacher."

Chloe ignored her and got up to pace around the room again, boots thonking solidly against the linoleum tile. Despite never receiving a word in response, the woman had kept up a running attempt at small talk ever since showing up and taking over a third of the machines. It did nothing to soothe Chloe's simmering irritation.

 _I wish Max was here_ , she thought for the hundredth time, _then I wouldn't be so goddamn bored_. Earlier she had realized with some surprise that this was the first time they'd been more than a few feet from each other in almost a week. Chloe had volunteered to take care of their collective laundry issues while she let Max relax at the motel. Her Mom was expecting a call before work, and Chloe hoped she would try to go back to bed afterwards. She had looked exhausted when Chloe left.

 _"- released a pocket of trapped undersea gases,_ " the professor was saying, slightly too animated. " _With a different refractive index than that of normal atmosphere, it's plausible, although somewhat unlikely, that these hypothesized gases could have created the optical effects seen last week in Arcadia Bay, as well as the unusual weather. And if that release was instigated by a geological event, that may eventually lead to an explanation for the electromagnetic abnormalities, like the aurora, that people have documented in the area."_

"Shit," she swore softly as she stopped in front of her dryer. _Seven minutes left? This thing said fifteen like twenty minutes ago._

"Honey," a too cheerful voice chimed in from the seating area, "frowning at it isn't going to make it go any faster. Trust me."

 _Holy shit, what's your deal?_ Her annoyance ratcheted up a notch and she gave the woman a scowl before going back to pacing. She wasn't quite sure why she hadn't told the woman to shut it yet. It felt unlike her.

 _Something's definitely up with me today,_ she thought. She'd crawled out of bed earlier that morning feeling clumsy and uncoordinated, already irked by a terrible night's sleep. The dreams that had given her so much trouble were hazy and escaped every attempt at remembering. Only vague impressions of loud music and crowds had stuck with her. That and the panic she'd felt upon waking up from them. Time after time a horrible falling sensation or an obscenely loud noise had jolted her awake, absolutely certain that something had gone terribly wrong. Each time she'd found Max breathing quietly next to her and drifted quickly back to sleep, but the uncomfortable _wrongness_ still lingered hours later.

At her back, the door opened, briefly letting the low traffic hum mingle with the drone of the talking heads on TV. They had moved on to discussing relief efforts, showing the same B-roll footage Chloe had seen everywhere since Saturday: an overturned boat in the middle of the road, flattened houses, tents set up on Blackwell's football field. Sick to death of those images, she contemplated going out for her third cigarette of the hour and nearly shrieked when she felt a pair of arms snake around her midsection from behind.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," she said, trying to control her heartbeat even as she felt a smile form on her lips.

"Mmph," Max mumbled into her back, giving her a squeeze before letting go. "Sorry. I got bored and thought maybe you needed some company."

"If you wanted excitement," Chloe said as she turned around, "a laundromat was an interesting choice."

Max's answering smile wasn't convincing. She was pale and her eyes were a touch too wide.

"Hey, are you okay? What happened?" Something occurred to her. "Wait, did you walk here? That's like two miles."

"Huh? No, nothing happened. I'm fine." Max looked down and brushed away an imagined hair from her cheek. "I was just bored."

Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Okay, but if -"

"Mom and Dad are okay with me staying here a little longer," Max interrupted, leaning down to peer into the dryer.

"No shit?" Chloe was surprised. "They seemed pretty serious about getting you to Seattle. I thought Vanessa was gonna drive down and stuff you into her car."

"She's just worried. I told them we might go up this weekend. That I had friends here and things I wanted to do. Which is true, I guess."

"Okay, cool. This weekend is good. I'm fine whenever you want to go." Chloe smiled. She hadn't seen Ryan and Vanessa in forever, and as much as Max wanted to put it off, Chloe was vaguely looking forward to it. She had liked Max's parents. Before the whole moving thing, at least. After that she kind of hated them for awhile, but they hadn't exactly been alone in that regard.

The dryer buzzed.

"Fucking _finally,_ " Chloe sighed with relief and reached over to pop open the door. "C'mon, Max, hand me that bag. This place is driving me crazy."

"I figured you might need help," Max grinned, a little more genuine. "When was the last time you actually _folded_ your laundry?"

"Hey!" Chloe gave her a light shove. "It's a thing I've done before and could conceivably be convinced to do again. Someday. But, I guess some of this _is_ yours, so yeah. We fold, then we find food. Deal?"

"Deal."

Chloe tried to tune out the TV as they worked, and hoped Max was doing the same. Local news had been wall to wall Arcadia Bay since the storm, and all the national networks had sent reporters to join the feeding frenzy. It was the perfect combination of natural disaster, inexplicable oddity, and sordid murder - who could resist? It was revolting how much all these news assholes seemed to revel in everyone's misery. Chloe just wished the Prescotts had been getting more coverage. Somehow they'd emerged with reputations more or less intact.

Next to her Max's hands slowed then stopped. Chloe glanced up at her face then turned to follow her gaze. On the TV a camera slowly panned over the preserved corner of the police station they had passed the day before. It was followed quickly by shots of a few other places around town, all showing disconcertingly untouched pockets nestled within the destruction. One had caught someone's lawn furniture, and half of a bright yellow umbrella splayed over a table and chairs that were set incongruously upright in the field of debris. Another seemed to be at the bottom of a driveway in front of an elaborate wrought iron gate. The front of what looked like a Mercedes rested awkwardly on two wheels and its bumper. It had been sheared just as cleanly as the glass at the police station.

" _Our boss didn't think we needed that footage on the show_." the anchor said after they cut back to the studio. " _According to him, everything you've just seen is perfectly natural. Thankfully, Tina over there agrees with me_." He smiled and pointed to someone off camera, then grimaced and pulled out his earpiece before continuing. " _I've shown those images to several meteorologists and storm experts across the country. Nothing like this has ever been documented anywhere. Ever. They all agree that this is not a reasonable result of any type of storm."_

He leaned forward earnestly. His eyes were bright with the absolute certainty of a conspiracy theorist. " _Folks, if we look at the big picture here, this was_ not _a natural_ _storm_ _._ _With all due respect to our previous guest, this_ _could not have been_ _ocean gases or a geological event_." Sitting back, he lowered his voice. " _I'm_ _not_ _trying to_ _say_ _that_ _there's_ _some sort of_ _cover-up_ _or anything sinister like that, although our producer refusing to air that tape_ _certainly_ _doesn't look good_ _. I'm not even claiming to have any idea what happened,_ _but s_ _omething very wrong is going on in Arcadia Bay_ _. If we take into account the more recent claims of_ _missing people_ _being found -_ " The channel abruptly cut to commercial.

"Well, he's not wrong, but he can definitely kiss his job goodbye," Chloe said. "What do you think he was ..." She stopped as she caught sight of Max. Her frown was intense and worry-lines divided her brow. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I should've turned that off when you got here."

"I'm fine," Max said irritably and let out a forceful breath. "Chloe, you don't need to _protect_ me from anything. I'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know," Chloe acknowledged. She had always been a little over-protective of Max when they were kids. It had clearly come back in full force. "Sorry. It's just that I know it bothers you, and you really shouldn't have to deal with that shit anymore."

"It's okay." Max's face softened. "Let's just hurry up and finish."

"You got it," Chloe said. The two of them folded quickly while commercials murmured in the background.

"Miss!" a voice called out, and Chloe finally felt herself boil over. "If you fold shirts like that, you'll get a crease right down the -"

"Jesus Christ, lady!" she exploded, exasperated. "Just shut up. Nobody's in the mood for your shit right now."

The woman blinked placidly, then looked back down at her magazine. Max gave Chloe a funny look.

"Sorry, Max" Chloe apologized as she stuffed the last t-shirt in the bag. "She, uh, had it coming. Ready to go?"

Max nodded. "Breakfast?" she asked.

"Breakfast," Chloe confirmed.

 

* * *

 

Their favorite picnic table overlooked the short, pebbly beach a few hundred yards from their motel. They sat facing the ocean, the bright mid-morning sun at their backs tinting the incoming waves an odd, silvery turquoise. From the coastal highway behind them came the intermittent rumble of tractor trailers, and the occasional squawking seagull glided by, eyeing their food with interest.

"Mmm." Max popped the last bit of croissant in her mouth and reached for her tea. Chloe grinned when she caught Max's glance wandering to her donut bag.

"Here," she said, sliding it over.

"Oh. Are you sure you don't want any more?"

"Max, unless you got reformed in Seattle somehow, you're probably still a shameless donut thief." Chloe held up a finger as Max opened her mouth to protest. "Don't even try to deny it. Take it. I got an extra one so you wouldn't swipe mine."

"Thanks. But this doesn't mean I accept your horrible slander." Max smiled and opened the bag.

Draining her coffee, Chloe stood and shook her cigarette pack. "I'm gonna take a walk. Back in a sec."

Max nodded, chewing, and Chloe wandered a few dozen steps down to the beach before lighting up. There had been some half-serious jabs about her smoking over the past few days, and she was starting to realize how much Max hated cigarettes. She'd have to quit soon, she decided. Exhaling, she bent to pick up a stone. After hefting it a few times in her hand, she hurled it as far as she could into the surf. It felt good, so she did it again.

Something was wrong with Max. It was obvious. It went beyond whatever residual weirdness still remained from the week before or whatever misplaced guilt she felt over the storm. The strange moods, the reluctance to go to sleep, the disturbing periods of vacancy in which she was just _gone_. Chloe didn't understand, and it scared the hell out of her, even more so because Max was clearly dodging the issue. So was she, if she was honest with herself. Even after her decision yesterday, she was still putting off the conversation. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of, exactly.

In a roundabout way it made her think of Rachel. Not the sweet and vulnerable Rachel of fifteen or sixteen, but Rachel at eighteen. Still as full of love and wonderful as ever, but tinged with something sharp and brittle. As close as they were, and as much as she loved her, Chloe could never make sense of it. The few times she tried to push Rachel to talk ended in hurt feelings and tears on both sides, so she had chosen to let the issue drop. Since April she had regretted that decision immensely.

Shaking her head, Chloe got off that line of thought as quickly as possible. She knew where it led. Wading through guilt wouldn't solve anything, now. It wouldn't help Max.

 _It's Max. She won't bite your head off for asking,_ Chloe told herself, flicking away her cigarette butt. She noticed Max watching her as she trudged back up to the picnic table.

"I think this is where I'm supposed to give you a hard time," Max joked as she neared.

"Huh?"

"Your cigarette butt, litterbug. There's a trash can right here."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Chloe straddled the bench and sat facing her friend.

"Hey." Max must have seen a hint of her thoughts in her face. "What's up?"

"Listen, Max," Chloe said slowly, still unsure of how to begin. "I'm worried."

"Yeah, me too. Everything's still so -"

"No, not about that. Well, okay, yeah, I'm worried about that too, but mostly I'm worried about you."

Max pulled a knee up onto the bench and swiveled to face her. "Me?" she asked, a little hesitantly.

"Yeah, you. I can tell something's ... not right. Something you don't want to talk about. Like earlier at the laundromat - you showed up looking like you were gonna tell me somebody died. And yesterday on the way back from the Bay you just shut down out of nowhere. Other things, too. And it's okay, I guess, if you don't want to tell me, but I still _want_ to know what's wrong. I want to know how to help."

"You _are_ helping," Max said quietly. "Really."

"Okay, so tell me how I can help more." Her eyes searched Max's. "Please."

"Okay," Max said after a long pause. Her face screwed up in a wince. "You're right, I think. I should have talked to you earlier." She took a deep breath and watched a few waves roll in before continuing in a rush. "I didn't say anything because I was _really_ hoping it would just go away. And because I don't understand any of it, like at all. And if I _did_ use the photo to go back again, then it wouldn't matter anyway when the other me takes over. But it's not going away, and I'm pretty sure I didn't use the photo."

Unprepared for the torrent of words, Chloe speechlessly watched Max watch the waves.

"It's hard to explain. Like, sometimes I feel like I'm thinking the wrong thoughts or feeling the wrong feelings." Max sighed and looked over at her. "Does that even make any sense?"

"Not really, but keep going and maybe it will?"

Max nodded. "This morning. After you left. I got off the phone with Mom and I was ... relieved, I guess, that it was Tuesday. Because Ms. Hoida is still out and I didn't have to go to English class."

"So, brainfart. Dude, everybody -"

"No. It felt like such a _real thought_ that I almost got back in bed. But it's more than that. At the same time, I missed you _so fucking much_. I was sure that you were dead. That I ..." she scrunched her eyes shut and swallowed thickly. "That I let Nathan _shoot_ you. And I didn't even question it for a while, not until I realized where I was. And then I _still_ couldn't totally convince myself that you were alive, even though I knew you were at the laundromat and your stuff was all over the place. So I went to find you."

"Oh my God," Chloe breathed, appalled. "That's horrible."

"Yeah," Max agreed. "This time was way worse because you weren't there. Usually I can look at you and -"

"Wait. This time? Usually? Jesus, Max, how often does this happen?"

"Um, kind of a lot, actually. But if I'm with you it's not as bad." She scooted a little closer and found Chloe's hand. "I mean, I still _feel_ it, but I know it's wrong. Like yesterday in the car. You were right there, so I didn't freak out. That's what I meant when I said you were helping."

Chloe stared at her. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. Puzzle pieces snapped together. "Is that what happens when you go away? You have these dreams, or whatever, where I'm dead and you're at Blackwell?"

"I go away?" Max asked, eyes widening with genuine surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You don't notice? Sometimes you just sort of ... turn off for a bit," Chloe struggled to find the right words. "Like 'nobody's home' kind of turn off. The thing from Friday, but shorter. It happened in the car yesterday."

"Oh, weird," Max said thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes you're _not_ dead, though, and it's not always Blackwell."

"Are they like the dreams from Friday?"

"Not really. They're mostly thoughts and feelings, no real details. Sometimes I'm with you and just dreading something I know is coming. But I'm happy, too, because we're together. Other times, like yesterday in your truck, I'm sure that I couldn't save you." Her voice faltered a bit before recovering. "And I just feel so hopeless, and completely trapped, like for real."

"Trapped like -" Chloe started to ask about the dark room, but Max was already shaking her head.

"No, it's different. I'm alone, and wherever I am I've been there a long time."

It was hard to know what to say to that. She watched a nearby seagull as it yelled at them angrily before flapping off in a huff. "So what do you think it means?"

"I don't know, Chloe!" Max's voice was hoarse and intense. "I have no fucking idea what _any_ of this means!"

Chloe turned to find Max's eyes shimmering. Her trembling hands were balled up in her lap. She reached out to pull her in close. After a few shaky breaths, Max relaxed against her.

"Sorry," she sniffled, returning the hug. "I'm just so tired of this. I want it to be _over_."

"I know. Me too."

"I don't want this morning to happen again. What if I really am going crazy? I'm scared I'll forget what's actually real."

"You're not and you won't. I'll be there," Chloe reassured her. "What else can I do?"

"You're doing it." Max said, and snuggled a little closer.

They sat in silence and watched the sea as the sun continued to advance at their backs. It was hot on her shoulders and the hard bench dug uncomfortably into her thighs, but Chloe didn't want to move. It was a gorgeous day and the waves were steady and calming. She felt Max gradually relax. Her breathing slowed, and Chloe began to suspect she had fallen asleep until she stirred and grumbled.

"My butt's falling asleep," she complained.

"Same," Chloe said. "But pillows abound back at the lair, if you're ready to leave."

"Butt pillows?" Max joked.

"You heard me. What are you in the mood for?"

"I think I kinda wanna just veg out for a while." She stood and started to gather up their breakfast trash. "Maybe watch something I've seen a million times so I don't have to think too much."

"That can be arranged," Chloe said as they started the walk back to their room.

 

* * *

 

Chloe yawned and once again cast her eyes around for something to help relieve her boredom. She could see her phone on the dresser by the door, much too far away. The remote for the TV could have been hiding anywhere. ' _Are you still watching "Arrested Development"?_ ' the laptop asked from a chair at the end of the bed, the _continue_ button mocking her with its inaccessibility. Everything was out of reach. She was trapped, doomed to tedium. To make things worse, she really had to pee.

Out cold on her shoulder, Max snored, softly enough that it was probably only audible this close to the source. She'd conked out towards the end of the second episode, and with how little she'd been sleeping, there was no way Chloe was going to wake her up. She deserved rest too much, and, judging by the boneless sprawl, this nap was graciously dream-free. It brought back memories of countless sleepovers, falling asleep on each other in front of the TV. This was the same, but it felt different now somehow, more important. She wondered if either of them had ever actually stayed awake through an entire movie. It had to have happened, she reasoned, but she couldn't remember it.

Chloe glanced over to check the clock on the bedside table, more out of boredom than any real impatience. _2_ _:36_ , she thought. _Almost an hour. Alright, Max, you get ten more minutes_ _. Th_ _en I absolutely need the bathroom_.

Max's messenger bag caught her eye. It lay on the table, the telltale shape of her camera bulging through the fabric. Chloe grinned and craned out her arm, trying not to shake the bed. The camera felt just like she remembered, the same hard plastic and surprising weight. Giving it to Max had been the right choice. Her face alone had been worth it. It was amazing how fast years of resentment had melted down to nothing that afternoon. Only an hour back together and she was already to trying to make her best friend smile.

Flipping up the front piece and holding the camera out at arm's length, she concentrated on centering herself and Max in the frame. She thought she had it right, so she pressed the button and was immediately blinded when the brilliant flash cut through the room.

"Shit," she swore, bobbling the camera as it ejected the picture. Max shifted around and gave a drowsy groan.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" she mumbled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Her hair stuck out crazily and she sported a large red impression of Chloe's shoulder on one cheek. Trying not to laugh, Chloe deposited the developing photo on the bedside table.

"Yup," she said, and snapped another picture without warning. "Sleepy Max is too adorable not to fuck with."

"Chloe!" Max drew out the second syllable a little more than was necessary. "You can't just go around taking pictures of people."

"Um, you're not people, you're Max," Chloe pointed out. "And also sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Forgot about the flash."

"How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour. You missed some good episodes."

"Oh." Max was a little more awake now, squinting around the room. "Thanks for letting me sleep."

"No problem, you looked like you needed it." Chloe settled back against the headboard and Max leaned against her. "And I _am_ a veteran of many Max and Chloe movie nights, so I know how this works."

"Oh, come on! Your record's _at least_ as bad as mine."

"Says you," she retorted. "I'd have to see the evidence."

"Says me," Max replied softly, and tilted her head up to smile at Chloe. Blue eyes sparkled a few inches away. _This is new_ , Chloe thought as her pulse sped up and Max's smile widened.

She wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but their lips touched and suddenly they were kissing for real. This wasn't the weird, sleepy dare of the week before or the desperate and heartbreaking thing by the lighthouse. This was different. It was short and chaste, by Chloe's standards, but it was serious. _Special_ , even.

Her heart raced as she pulled away, giddy in a way she hadn't known in years. She could see the grin she felt on her face mirrored on Max's. They stared at each other for what felt like minutes.

"Okay, you win," Chloe finally said. "Your record's better than mine."

Max laughed and settled back down against her shoulder. "I knew you'd come around."

"I was thinking while you were asleep," Chloe said after a few moments.

"Oh? That's new."

"Shut up you," Chloe replied and gently pushed Max up so they could sit face to face. "I wanna give you something."

She held up a hand between them and started to work a ring off her finger. It was nothing special, just a simple metal band she'd liked the look of. Max watched with curiosity.

"Here," she said as she pressed it into Max's palm and folded her fingers around it. "If it happens again and I'm not there, remember that this is real and I'm alive. That I gave this to you."

Max stared down at the ring resting in her hand, expression unreadable.

"What, a little too cheesy?" Chloe asked.

She slipped the ring onto her finger and flexed her hand experimentally. It was kind of loose, but not enough to worry about it slipping off. "Yeah, but good cheesy. Thanks." She looked up and Chloe was startled to see tears in her eyes. "I love you, Chloe."

"I love you, too." It had been said before, many times over the years, but she knew it meant something different this time. Something important had changed between them. It had _been_ changing, she realized, since last week, gradually building towards now. _Since that morning in my bedroom_ , she thought. _No, since the pool_. She grabbed a hand and squeezed, playing with the ring on Max's finger. She didn't want this to end, but knew it had to. "Max, I'm so sorry to ruin this, really, but I'm totally gonna piss the bed if I don't go like right now."

"Oh my god," Max giggled and pulled her hand back in mock disgust. "Go! Go pee, I'm not going anywhere."

As soon as she left the bathroom, Max was shoving a polaroid into her hands.

"This is the picture you _just_ took," she said, face and voice equally serious. "Please tell me I'm crazy. Tell me you don't see this."

Chloe flipped on a light and sat down to take a look. Her breath caught. This was definitely _not_ the picture she just took. It was of the two of them, but everything else was completely wrong - wrong room, wrong hair, wrong clothes. Wrong _everything_.

"Max," she asked quietly, "What the fuck is this?"

"I don't know." Max sat down on the bed next to her. "The second one you took is normal."

It was incredibly eerie. The girl in the picture was unmistakably her, but it also couldn't have been. Her hair was the old strawberry blonde that had been gone for years, and there was a softness to her face that Chloe hardly recognized and only kind of remembered. She was propped up in what was clearly a hospital bed, a tube snaking from her neck to pass under the metal bed-railing and vanish out of frame. Even covered by a blanket she looked small and frail. The other Max perched on a chair at her bedside, leaning in close to her and giving the camera a tired but genuine smile. At least _she_ seemed pretty much the same. Her hair might be a little different, Chloe noticed, like maybe she had had it cut more recently, but it was still the same Max.

"That's what I looked like?" Chloe asked, her shock starting to give way to confused curiosity. Next to her Max gave the smallest of nods.

"Yeah," she whispered, still staring at the picture.

Chloe leaned a little closer and squinted. "Holy shit, that's my uncle Aaron's house," she said with surprise. She pointed a finger. "I recognize that clock. I had to crash on the couch in his living room whenever we stayed over, and that thing used to bug the shit out of me while I was trying to go to sleep."

"Chloe." Max ignored her. Her voice was flat and tense. "If you see this too and I'm not crazy, then that means it's real."

"What's real?" The tone of Max's voice sent an icy trickle of apprehension down her spine.

"All of it. The dreams, the hallucinations, the funeral, me at Blackwell. Everything."

" _Funeral!?_ Max, what the _fuck_ are you talking about?" It was impossible to contain her voice.

"I didn't tell you everything about Friday."

Chloe waited and struggled to calm herself. She remembered Max's account of that morning and couldn't imagine something worse than wandering through twisted nightmare memories and being yelled at by an evil version of yourself.

"The second time it happened, after we went into town, it was different," Max fidgeted nervously with her ring, twisting it back and forth on her finger. "It wasn't dreams like before. This time I was at your funeral. You _did_ die in the Blackwell bathroom, and the storm never came. It was super real, like the realest dream you can imagine, except I was just watching, almost, sort of riding around in my own head. And at first I thought it _wa_ s just a dream, you know, until you told me what you saw at the lighthouse, then I wasn't really sure what it was."

"And you didn't say anything?" she asked quietly, disbelieving.

Max shook her head slowly. "I was hoping these stupid hallucinations, or whatever they are, would go away, or that I was wrong or crazy or something and we wouldn't even have to _have_ that conversation. But they didn't, and I started thinking. What if maybe it wasn't a dream? What if it's _actually real_?"

"But how could it be real? I'm alive, Max. The photo thing _didn't work_. The storm definitely happened."

"That's why I thought I was crazy. Hoped I was crazy. But then we saw the picture and ... it fits. Remember how I said in one of my dreams I was with you but scared about something I knew was gonna happen?" She reached over and tapped the picture in Chloe's hand. "It fits. It's real and _I_ made it happen."

Chloe tried to keep up. "Are you saying you think you _created_ a parallel universe?"

"I think so." Max said, strangely calm, still idly twisting her ring back and forth. "Probably more than one. My hallucinations aren't all the same, and I'm remembering other things. Bits and pieces of memories from dreams. Stuff that would've happened after I went back to erase everything. Like being stuck in the Two Whales when the storm finally hit, or ..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before finally looking over at Chloe. "What if I didn't change _anything_? What if I just made a new reality every time I used a photo? And left everybody trapped in all the shitty old ones?"

"Max, it's just a picture. We have no idea what it means." Chloe said, hoping her voice was as reassuring as she wanted it to be. She set the photo face down on the bed, away from them. "It's not any weirder than all the other stuff we've seen. And you've been through a lot of pretty fucked up shit, of course you're gonna have bad dreams."

"But it might be happening to other people, too. Victoria obviously kind of remembers the dark room, Mom said she's having nightmares, you're dreaming about your car crash -"

"I've been having those dreams ever since Dad died," Chloe cut her off. "They're not new, they don't mean anything."

"Yesterday you said they changed at some point. That you were the one driving." Max met her eyes. "Do you remember _when_ they changed?"

"I would've been sixteen, I think," she said, "After I got my truck fixed up. I remember talking about it with Rachel. That makes sense, though - I start driving for real, I start driving in my dreams."

"That's also when the other version of you had the accident."

Chloe slowly shook her head. "I dunno. I get what you're saying, but I'm not sure I buy it. I mean, yeah, _clearly_ there's some weird shit still going down, but this is ... a little hard to believe."

"What did you dream last night?" Max asked suddenly, as if she'd just remembered something significant.

"I barely remember," The question caught her by surprise. "There were a lot of people and it was loud, I think. After that I don't know. Something woke me up, like a noise or something. Is it important?"

"You were talking in your sleep. You told me to get ready to use my rewind in case Nathan jumped us."

' _Stop stomping around, Chloe!_ ' Max's voice came floating up from her memory, along with snippets of confused feelings and a jumble of impressions.

"Holy shit," she breathed, stunned. "It was dark, and I was scared and angry. _Really_ angry. I think I was in the junkyard with you. We were ..." An image formed suddenly in her mind, as clear as one of Max's polaroids. Moonlight shone on gunmetal, an instant of acute panic. It felt too real, too tangible to be a half-remembered dream. Adrenaline set her heart pounding. "Oh my god, he shot me. He fucking shot me."

Dimly, she realized Max was saying something. Far too rattled for the words to register, Chloe stared blankly at her friend. She knew what had happened that night, of course - Max had told her all about the things she had erased. Knowing, however, was a feeble imitation of remembering. The details were a blurry smear, but the feelings were sharp enough.

She felt Max's hands on her shoulders and forced herself to focus. "Definitely wasn't ready for that," she was finally able to say. "I remember dying. Again."

Max nodded and hugged her. "It sucks, I know. Do you believe it now?"

"I believe _you_ , Max. Always." She punctuated that with a squeeze and then sat back. "The alternate realities thing? Not totally, no. I still hope this is just -"

Her stomach flipped suddenly, falling as if she had crested the rise of a roller coaster and was now barreling towards the earth. A rushing, tearing buzz started low and quickly filled her ears as hazy brightness began to overtake her sight. Embers seemed to dance at the periphery. She grabbed reflexively for Max, needing something, anything, to ground her against the terrible freefall.

"It's not me!" Max was shouting as she held onto her. "I'm not doing this!"

Chloe briefly had time to wonder what she meant before all sensation of motion ceased. Her vision whited out and a voice drifted by over the ringing in her ears.

" _I can't believe you still have that old camera_." It was her. She was saying that.

" _Well, you can thank Max for letting me know that analog is hip again_." That was Dad's voice, but strange. Different from how it was in her dreams. " _Now h_ _old that pose_. _"_

The whiteness began to fade, burning away from the center like a candle flame through paper.

Max stirred against her shoulder and sat up. Chloe looked around in shock as a polaroid whirred out of the camera she inexplicably held out in front of her. They lay on the bed just as they had minutes ago, but the room had changed in ways that made no sense. The walls were incomplete, fading strangely away partway down their length to expose empty blackness. In front of her the sailboat painting hung in space above the TV, attached to nothing. Behind it seemed to be only a dark and endless void. She looked to her right, towards what should have been the window to the parking lot, and found a fragment of another room suspended in the nothingness. No obstacles stood between them - the walls and ceilings appeared to have melted away as if they were never there. Angled slightly, it sat a bit below theirs. A short path traversed the few feet of empty space to connect them. Goosebumps prickled up and down her arms.

Two girls stared at them from the room across the gap. To Chloe they looked just as dumbfounded as she felt, eyes wide and mouths open in disbelief. For a long minute the only sound was the loud ticking of Uncle Aaron's clock on the bookcase in the other room. The strange Chloe cleared her throat and tried an uncertain smile.

"I, uh, think we got your picture," she said.


	5. Speak, Memory

The words seemed to break their collective paralysis. The other Chloe's voice was soft, but it reached them easily despite the open space. Chloe pushed herself up, still gawking at the room across the divide. A dull fear pulsed in response to the outright strangeness. She hadn't been there since before Dad died, but she recognized her uncle's living room. The bookcase was still packed with books and topped with the hated brass clock, and the familiar couch had been shoved into a corner to make space for the bed and ventilator and other curious machines. She remembered a television and recliner, but they apparently hadn't survived the trip.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to use the photo," the other Max apologized, slowly leaning back from her pose and looking around nervously to meet everyone's eyes. "It started and I couldn't stop it. I didn't even think I could do it anymore. What is this place? How are you here?"

Chloe felt the bed bounce next to her as Max hopped off and quickly made her way across to the others. She got up and followed behind, purposefully not thinking about the emptiness below her as she crossed the short bridge. Ahead of her Max had stopped at the bed, clutching the railing tightly with both hands. Chloe stepped up next to her, mesmerized by the blond girl who looked just like her. The picture had been crazy enough, but seeing her in person spooked her to the core.

"Chloe," Max said in a shaky voice. "Oh my god, I am so, _so_ sorry. _I_ did this to you. I had _no idea_ what I was doing. If I had -"

"Max, no." The response was barely above a whisper, but Max shut up immediately. "It's okay. I know what you did and I get why you did it. You wanted to help, to give me my dad back. I would've done exactly the same thing if I had your powers. It wasn't your fault. If you want to blame somebody, blame the asshole that cut me off." Max tried to speak but she kept going. "I know this _just_ happened for you, but it's been years for me. I'm not as mad about it as I used to be, and I _definitely_ do not blame you."

After a second Max shook her head and Chloe caught a sad smile. She could tell Max wanted to say more, but she raised her head to look across the bed at her double. "You guys have had this talk before, haven't you?"

"Yeah," the other Max replied quietly. "A few times. Usually with more tears. Trust me, she knows. I've said it every way I can think of. Or you can think of, I guess. Holy crap, this is super weird."

"No shit," came the voice from the bed. "Is nobody else wondering what the fuck is going on?" Chloe glanced down at her and smiled despite her nerves. Even in a different reality, even confined to a bed, she still sounded basically like herself.

"Seriously," Chloe agreed, looking around again at the bizarre environment. The vast expanse of emptiness was making her decidedly uncomfortable, and the light seemed wrong - she couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. _I_ _do_ _n't see any shadows_ , she realized with a shiver. "Do either of you two timelords have any idea what the hell this is? It's creepy as shit."

"I accidentally used the picture we got of you two," the other Max said sheepishly. "Like before, when I went back in time to when we were kids. I couldn't stop looking at it, and I sort of lost control, I guess."

"We can't actually be in the past, can we? I mean, this _can't_ be real." Chloe's double wrinkled her forehead in thought. "If we _had_ gone back like you described the other time, then Dad would've been here. He would've taken the picture, handed it to us, and then left. Just like he did before. And I'm pretty sure I - " She flicked her eyes over to Chloe. " _We_ shouldn't be here."

"Yeah, this is different," Max said. She seemed quiet, deflated. Chloe put a hand on her shoulder as the other Max nodded in agreement. "On Friday I had this dream or something, and for some of it I was walking on like a path through memories from last week, like looking at them from the outside. It was pretty much like this, but I couldn't do anything except look."

"Wires must have gotten crossed with the pictures somehow," the other Chloe said with conviction. "I'm guessing you got ours if we got yours?" She looked at them for confirmation. "Who knows how it happened. Same people, same time ..?"

"Same camera, too, I think." Max's double added. "Do you still have it?"

"Yeah," Max answered. "William's old camera."

"And I guess it makes sense that if you used a picture to go back to a moment that didn't exist in your timeline, things would get a little screwy." The other Chloe stopped and looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "I think 'a little screwy' might be as good as we're gonna get, as far as an explanation goes."

Nobody seemed to disagree. "You don't seem too surprised to see us," Max observed after a pause.

"No, we're pretty surprised," the other Chloe laughed softly. "We're just not surprised that you exist."

"It was our theory about what happened. That I got left behind," the other Max clarified. "We started to remember some things that you guys did, after. From dreams, mostly."

Chloe had been only half-following their back-and-forth. She was still captivated by the girl in the bed, wondering what had changed, other than the obvious. Five years. A quarter of her life. So many things had to be altogether different. She could almost imagine the gift five more years with Dad would have been - no aimless rage, no stepdouche, no getting kicked out of Blackwell. The paralysis, however, was inconceivable. What would it be like to be stuck in that bed? How would it have shaped her life? She felt her face fall. It had to be horrible.

"Hey," the other Chloe said, and she realized she was staring. "Do I have a booger or something?"

"No, you're good," she said. She tried to smile, knowing instinctively that showing any hint of pity was the absolute wrong move. "I just forgot how hot I was with my old hair."

"I don't know, the blue is pretty sweet." They grinned at each other, and Chloe realized she liked this other version of herself. Her tension began to ease a little.

"So Uncle Aaron's, huh?" she asked the other two. "You guys were hella lucky to make it out of town after the storm. Uh, if there was one over there."

"There was, and we got out before, actually. Max was pretty persuasive." The other Chloe flashed her Max a huge smile.

"No way. How the hell did you convince Joyce?"

"She didn't believe it until we saw the storm on the news. Well, she said she didn't, but she went along with Dad. He did, at least enough to pack everything up and leave, but ..." A pained expression clouded her face as she trailed off. She met Chloe's eyes. "If we're gonna do the whole story thing, I should probably back up. Did she tell you? What I asked her to do?"

"Yeah," Chloe answered quietly. If she knew herself at all, there was no way she wanted to talk about this.

"It was ... really bad." The understatement couldn't have been more obvious. Chloe was astonished to discover that memories of that morning were suddenly within reach. Scraps began to surface, vague like old dreams, and they crystallized as she focused. She had been overwhelmingly frustrated at her helplessness, and absolutely furious with Max. It was unfair and she knew it, but she had shoved that thought away. She couldn't even look at her. All she had wanted was to be left alone.

"If Max hadn't tried to go back through the photograph right afterwards, I don't know how things would have turned out. But I heard the two of us together. It was when Dad took the picture we had just looked at, the day we finally opened our time capsule. Our last real day before she left. And when I looked over I could see her. Little thirteen-year-old Max standing there. A ghost with a look on her face like the world was about to end. She told me that I had to be strong, that she would never abandon me." She cleared her throat and tried unsuccessfully to blink back tears. At her bedside her Max reached for tissues. Her voice was thick with feeling, but she powered through it. "Now I know she wasn't talking to me, not really, but at the time I didn't. It was some mega-heavy shit, like exactly the perfect thing for me to hear right then. I thought I was going insane, or there was something wrong with my medications, or that maybe I had actually died, but then Max started freaking out too, and I knew it was real. Eventually we both calmed down and she told me everything.

"It didn't take long to convince me after what I saw. She did some weird shit, like telling me what the people on the news were gonna say before they said it, but I was already like ninety percent there. The other ten was me wondering if I was crazy, and some of that stuck around for a little while. She said she didn't know if the storm was really gonna happen or not, but it might, and so we had to leave, like _today_. Just get everything in a van and fucking _go_."

As her double spoke, more memories trickled in - memories that never could have belonged to her. It was like watching a favorite movie she hadn't seen since she was little - there was no way to know what was coming next, but once it happened she couldn't imagine how she'd ever forgotten. The effect was deeply disorienting, and her head swam with something like extreme déjà vu.

"Watching Mom and Dad wrap their heads around it was a trip." She laughed quietly. "We wanted to start slow, you know, so it was just a card trick at first. One of those stupid 'pick a card, any card' kinda things. They humored us. Obviously. We had them shuffle the deck however they wanted, and Max named every card they pulled out before they even decided which one to pick. Easy every time. She didn't even touch the cards. It must've seemed nuts. Dad started to look nervous when he shuffled three decks together and she could still do it. He was cracking Vegas jokes but I could tell he was weirded out. She did some other stuff too, after that. Like the news thing, and reading the stock ticker before it got on the screen, that kind of thing. I think the cards might have been enough for Dad, though.

"So she explained it. Not all of it - we skipped the whole alternate timeline and rewriting history thing - but enough to get to the 'we're all in danger' part. Mom had that look on her face, like we'd taken the joke too far and she was right on the edge of being fed up with everything, but Dad listened. He wasn't sold, but he listened. When we were done he started to say something, but before he even got a word out Max was standing right next to him holding a soda. It looked like she had fucking teleported. Apparently he wanted a drink. He meant a beer or something, but whatever. Max didn't know that. He took the Coke with him and went straight out to rent a big-ass U-Haul for all my medical shit. We had to ..."

She had more to say, but it was impossible to pay attention. It was too much. Chloe's mind was flooded with thoughts from the other world. She could easily recall Dad, forcing a smile and joking halfheartedly while Max sat across the bed from him, subdued and plainly not enjoying this as much as the first time she proved her powers. Mom had stood by the window, and Chloe saw the confused fear that filled her eyes when Max vanished to reappear somewhere else.

"Stop for a sec. Please," she begged. It came out almost as a gasp. At her side, Max sagged against the bed, breathing heavily. Chloe pulled lightly on her arm, and they stumbled over to the couch and collapsed against each other. The other two girls watched with surprise.

"Sorry," Chloe apologized breathlessly as the world came back into focus. "When you say something I remember it." She looked over at Max, who nodded sharply, still gathering herself. "We remember it. It's like a whole day in minutes. It feels really fucking weird."

"Oh no, are you okay? You should have said something earlier," the other Max said with concern. "Good thing there's not much more. We've just been at Aaron's since then."

They sat recovering and let the weirdness gradually abate, the brass clock ticking steadily in the background. Chloe felt a strange sensation in her hand and glanced down. Max had found her ring and was gently toying with it. _Oh_ _yeah_ , she thought, _I haven't given it to her yet_. She slipped it off her finger and onto Max's. "How're you feeling?" she asked softly.

"I'm good," Max replied, and surprised Chloe with a smile. "Better than I have been, I think. There's something about this place ..."

She believed her. The smile had reached her eyes this time and the worried look that had been haunting her for days appeared to have retreated. "Good," Chloe said, and reached up to brush misbehaving hair from Max's face. Their eyes locked for a second as they shared the smile. She turned to find a grin on her double's face. Chloe just shrugged.

The other girl's grin widened. "Anyway," she said, strangely excited. "Tell me about something. I wanna try this memory thing."

Her excitement was difficult to fathom at first, but Chloe sensed it a second later - Max was right. There _was_ something about this place. She could recognize it now that her uneasiness had begun to fade. _Peaceful_ was the word that came to mind. It felt like the entire universe had paused completely, just to give them a chance to catch their breath.

"Sure," she said, reaching for a memory. "Okay, big news. We went to the laundromat this morning." She thought about the stench of fabric softener and the uncomfortable chair before remembering the lady who wouldn't take a hint. The other Chloe broke in before she could voice the thought.

"Oh my god, that poor woman," she laughed. "You went a little hard on her, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess." Chloe agreed, suddenly self-conscious. "I wasn't in the greatest mood, and she would _not_ shut up."

"What was it?" the other Max asked, glancing back and forth between them. "I didn't get anything."

"Huh." Chloe mulled it over for a moment. Max was lost in thought on the couch at her side, staring at her hands. She tapped her on the leg. "Hey Maximus, do you remember that woman from the laundromat this morning?"

"Yeah," she answered, brow creased in confusion. "What about her?"

"Picture her," the other Chloe urged. "What was she like? What happened?"

Max seemed to catch on. She was silent for a few seconds.

"Oh. Oh wow," Max's double said, surprise widening her eyes. "That's crazy."

"Yeah, this is pretty bonkers," the blond girl agreed, looking over at her. "Just try not to think about all your weird fantasies."

Her Max laughed. "She's me, you dork. She knows them all already." Her smile gradually fell away as she turned to face the two girls on the couch. "I kinda don't wanna ask this, but are you okay to talk about what happened after? I know a lot of it was really messed up."

Max was nodding before her double finished speaking. "I was just thinking that you guys need to hear all of it. But be ready to tell us to stop when you need a break, okay? It's gonna majorly suck for you to remember most of this."

"We know," the other Chloe said quietly, her earlier enthusiasm gone. "We got some of it from dreams, but not enough to understand everything."

"Can you go first?" Max asked Chloe after a pause. "I wasn't exactly there for Wednesday."

"Yeah, no problem." Leaning back against the cushions, she tried to decide how to start. "You remember that stupid fight, or whatever it was, where I dumped my issues all over you?" she asked the other Max, and continued after receiving a nod. "It didn't take that long for me to realize how much of a total shit I was being. I think it was only a few hours before I texted you."

She went slowly and kept a careful eye on her audience, well aware of how bewildering it was to be struck by someone else's memories. As she spoke, she watched the other girls' faces transform with recollection. Emotion after emotion passed by, rapid fire. They were just about to leave the Prescott barn when the other Max called a halt.

"It was _Nathan_?" she asked, baffled. "God, I was so sure it was Jefferson. I had dreams about that place after the murders, and he was always -"

"What murders?" Max sat up, suddenly stiff.

"Oh crap. Sorry, I guess we didn't get that far," her double replied. "It was all over the news Sunday night. Somebody shot Jefferson and Sean Prescott."

"Holy shit," Chloe exclaimed, unable to conceal a hint of righteous pleasure. She hated the idea of Jefferson getting away with what he'd done in any reality.

"Yeah," the other Max continued. "Turns out the Prescott estate didn't get hit that bad by the storm, and apparently construction people or cleaners or somebody found them there. They think -"

"They were together?" Chloe interrupted, barely registering the confirmation before jumping up and spinning to face Max. "I fucking _knew_ it. I _knew_ there was no way Prescott didn't know what was going on." She started to pace back and forth in the small space. "Do you remember all those fucked up emails we found? Him telling Nathan about fulfilling his destiny or some crazy shit like that?"

"He said he was going to guide him into it," Max sounded distant as she remembered. "Like his father did for him, after he opened his eyes to it."

"Exactly! It's insane! And he _built_ the fucking bunker! He _had_ to have known what they were doing down there." She stopped pacing and turned to Max. "So what are we gonna do about this? There's gotta be a way we can nail that asshole."

"Chloe, I don't think we can do anything," Max said patiently. "It's his barn, the cops are already investigating him, and not just Arcadia Bay ones. Like, _actual_ cops. And even if we could get past them, we still wouldn't know what to look for or how to find it. Where would we even start?"

Chloe swallowed her words. She had been milliseconds away from reminding Max that her rewind could solve anything. "Right," she said as she slowly sat back down, upset with herself that that was the first place her mind had gone.

When no one spoke up, Max's double picked up where she'd left off. "The police think Nathan did it. There was a press conference and everything. They have no idea where he is. His picture is everywhere."

"I figured it must've been him," Max said. "He was completely unhinged last week, at least in our reality, and if his dad had something to do with Jefferson and the dark room ..."

"I still don't really get how Jefferson fits with everything." The other Max looked over at them, her expression curious.

"Okay." Chloe braced herself as she got ready to pick up the story again. She had been dreading what was coming next. She tried to keep her words steady, but they came out in a weird monotone that she had trouble controlling. "Okay, so we found that binder. The one with Rachel. And I recognized the junkyard. I had to know -"

"Stop," the other Chloe said in the same instant she felt Max's restraining hand on her arm.

"You don't need to tell this part," Max told her quietly. "I'll do it, okay?"

She let out a breath and sank back into the couch, grateful to have Max next to her.

"Neither of you do, actually," Chloe's double said, and fixed her with a long look. Her eyes overflowed with sympathy, like they were trying to say too much. "I'm so sorry. I dreamed about it the night after the storm. It was the first thing we got from you guys."

Chloe nodded, vaguely surprised at how little surprise she felt. It was a curious feeling, to know that someone else had dreamed your memories, but it seemed almost ordinary after everything they'd experienced.

After a few moments, Chloe twirled her finger and Max began to speak, walking them bit by bit through the Vortex Club party. Chloe's only recollections of that reality were from the previous night's dreams, but if her double wondered why she was getting nothing but cloudy and disjointed flashes, she didn't ask. By the time it occurred to her what her one vivid memory of that night was, it was too late to warn anybody. The other Chloe was suddenly bone white, her face heavy like she was on the verge of passing out.

Waving Max to silence, Chloe shot off the couch to the bedside. "Fuck, I'm sorry," she apologized as she laid a hand on her double's shoulder, realizing a second later that she couldn't feel it but deciding it didn't matter. "I should've said something. Are you okay?"

"I think so," she answered weakly. "Really wasn't expecting to get shot. That kinda sucked."

"Yeah, it sucks pretty hard," Chloe agreed. "I promise I'll warn you next time, okay?"

She swallowed nervously at 'next time', but nodded soberly. Even though her cheeks had regained some color, the dazed expression remained. Chloe could almost feel her shock as they shared a look.

"I'm _so_ confused," the other Max said. "If Chloe died, that means you used a picture again. So why haven't I -"

"Max," Chloe's double interrupted softly. "Can we stop here? I don't think I can do this anymore right now. Sorry."

"Yeah, of course. It's okay. Whatever you want."

"Uh, guys?" Chloe asked as a worrying thought dawned on her. "Do you think we can come here again? I mean, this isn't like a one time thing, right?"

"I think we can," the other Max answered. "I'm like ninety percent sure. All I did was use the photo, it should be easy to come back. We could keep going tomorrow, if you want."

"Wait," Max broke in seriously. "If we get back to our realities after this and _anything_ is different, we never do this again, okay? It's not worth it if we're messing around with time just by being here."

"Hang on a sec, I have an idea," Chloe said as she made her way back across to the motel room. After a quick rummage in her junk pile on the dresser, she held up a marker in triumph. A handful of crude possibilities crossed her mind, but she kept it simple and drew a small _X_ on the nightstand. Back at Aaron's, she made the same mark on the side of the bookcase.

"There," she said, capping the marker with a flourish. "Now we'll know. Seriously, though, I'm gonna be hella pissed if these stick around after we leave." Another thought struck her. "Wait, how do we leave?"

"I don't know." Max shrugged. "It always just sort of ended when I was done."

"Oh," Max's double said, surprise evident in her voice. "Maybe if I -"

Chloe was completely unprepared for the freefall, but she could at least recognize it this time. She shut her eyes tightly against the brightness and waited for it to be over. After the roaring in her ears had passed, she found herself sitting on the edge of the motel bed, hands locked in a death-grip around Max's forearm. Her heart still hammered against her ribs from the shock of the first unfamiliar trip through the photo, but it quickly quieted as she relaxed and let go, relieved to see that the _X_ on the nightstand hadn't made it back with them. It seemed as if no time had passed at all.

Releasing a slow breath, Max flopped backwards onto the bed. Chloe joined her, letting her legs dangle over the side. They were silent for a long while, listening to the rumble of traffic outside their door.

"I don't know if this helps," Chloe said, hoping she had guessed Max's thoughts, "but she's happy. Happier than she's been in a long time, with you around. She's glad you said no. And she wasn't lying when she said she doesn't blame you."

"I was so worried about her when I saw that picture and realized what happened." Chloe was comforted to hear relief in Max's voice. "I was terrified that I'd left her angry and miserable and in pain. It was good to see her, to know that she's okay. I still feel so awful about it, but I'm glad they're together, that things are better than I thought they'd be."

"It seems wrong to talk about them like they're different people," Chloe mused. "I was super freaked out at first, but by the end I felt so ... fuck, I don't know, _connected_ , maybe. Like we were in each other's heads with way more than just the memory thing."

"I felt the same way, and not just with that version of me. The other ones were closer, too, and a lot easier to think about while we were there. Easier to keep separate. The me in Blackwell is coping, mostly, but only because she knows about you, I think. I get the feeling that she spends a lot of time in my memories of us from the past few days." She wriggled a bit, trying to get more comfortable. Chloe groped blindly towards the head of the bed for a pillow they could share. "Same with the other one, the one I said felt trapped somewhere. But I still don't understand what's going on with her at all, and it scares me. I can see where she is, now. It's like a big one-room apartment, with a huge bookcase and TV and treadmill, stuff like that. But everything's metal and it's all bolted down with like, rivets, I think the word is. Where you can't unscrew them. And there's no windows and no handle on the inside of the door."

"Holy fuck, a cell?" Chloe tensed, suddenly nervous. "Do you think someone found out what you can do? Like the government or somebody?"

"Maybe, I don't know. But it doesn't make any sense. Everything is all confused. I feel like I've been there for a long time, but it could only have been a few days. I don't even know how I got there, it's like I just woke up there after the storm, or -" Max went completely still for a moment before letting out her breath in a rush. "Oh my god. I think I made it back from San Francisco before it happened."

"What do you mean? Before some asshole stuck you in that room?"

"No, before the _storm_ ," Max clarified in disbelief. "Chloe, I think I _rewound_. I think I rewound away _hours_ trying to get back to save you. I tried so hard, but I couldn't do it."

Max's voice hitched as she forced out the last few words, disturbingly close to a sob. Chloe turned and rested an arm across her waist. "Hey. You _did_ do it. You saved me. You were incredible."

"I know. It just felt so real for a second." She wiped her eyes and rolled to face Chloe, their foreheads almost touching. "She knows it too, and it makes whatever she's going through easier. And I think the other versions of me, the ones that didn't make it, if they had known at the end, they might have been okay. If they had known that it would work, that there would be a world where you're alive and we're together."

Chloe was speechless, touched beyond words. She placed a soft kiss on Max's forehead. "God, you really are incredible."

The answering smile was tired but heartfelt. They lay for a time, nearly dozing, and Chloe tried not to think about the Max trapped in that lonely place.

 

* * *

 

It ended up being just as simple to return as they had guessed it would be. All Max had needed to do was focus on the photograph from the other reality, just like she said she had done the other times she used them to travel in time. She took them back the next day after lunch, all four of them appearing in that unnerving dreamscape just as they had after the first unexpected photo jump.

Chloe's first instinct upon arrival had been to immediately toss the ticking clock into the void, prompting a delighted laugh from her double. She wasn't sure how gravity worked here, but it vanished quickly in the darkness. The other Max was impatient and already full of questions, but she agreed to wait until they had heard all there was to hear.

They now sat quietly, giving the other two space to digest what they had learned of Friday. Chloe had done her best to warn them, but this was far and away the longest break since they began speaking a couple of hours ago. Fear had grown steadily in her double's eyes as Chloe described her vision of Max at the lighthouse, blossoming into panic in the instant of the gunshot. She had already found it difficult to get the words out, but that final surge of terror nearly robbed her of her voice completely. It hit hard, and her hands trembled as if she had just relived those moments along with her other self.

The other Max eventually shook herself and leaned back in her chair. She shot a questioning glance towards the bed and waited for approval before speaking. "Okay. I still have pretty much the same question I had before. You did the photo thing again, like a bunch of times. There _have_ to be other timelines. So why are you the only one I'm dreaming about? Did going back to Blackwell not change anything? Did nobody else make it?"

There was a nervous pause. "You haven't felt anything?" Max asked, surprise raising her voice half an octave. "No weird thoughts or hallucinations or anything like that?"

"No, nothing. Just those dreams about you two." Max's nerves were contagious, and her double spoke through a confused frown. "You have?"

"Yeah, like all the time. I just sort of assumed you did too."

"Man, this shit just keeps getting weirder," the other Chloe said, mirroring Chloe's own thoughts so completely that she bit back an involuntary laugh.

"Sorry," she said as both Maxes gave her identical funny looks. "I guess we have a little more to talk about."

"Yeah, apparently," Max agreed, before tiredly launching into their days at the motel following the storm. The memory sharing seemed easier now, less jarring, and it didn't take long.

"Why would it happen to her and not you?" the other Chloe wondered after they were done, seemingly thinking out loud to herself. "You both got left behind after a photo jump. What's different?"

"I have no idea," her Max replied absently, mind elsewhere. She faced Max with a thoughtful look. "So there are two others? The one at Blackwell I understand, but the other one, the one in that room, not so much."

"Me neither," Max said. "I didn't even remember until yesterday that -" She froze, eyes suddenly empty.

Chloe sighed and gently turned Max's head to face her, cupping a cheek with her hand. "Max? Hey. Can you hear me?"

"Chloe?" Max's eyes focused on her slowly and with difficulty. "Oh. No, it's okay. This isn't like the other times."

"Are you sure?" Chloe asked, relieved to see none of the distress she'd been expecting.

"Yeah," Max let out a breath and sank back into the couch. "God, it's so much easier to remember here, like they're closer somehow."

"What did you remember?" Chloe asked.

"I'm not really sure yet, it's all mixed together. A lot, though. Is it okay if I maybe just talk and we see what comes out?" A chorus of nods answered her request. She took a second to collect her thoughts, then her eyes went far away. "I remember I thought I was stuck after I tried to use the photo in San Francisco, that I couldn't make it work, just like I thought at the lighthouse. There were a lot of people, and everybody was staring at me. I figured it was because I started to totally lose it for like no reason, but I guess they must've seen me destroy the picture, the way you guys saw what I did in the past. After a minute I remembered my journal. It was in my bag where I'd left it at the front desk, but I couldn't make any of those pictures work either, so I pretty much panicked completely and just started rewinding. I think I was gonna go back as far as I could and call you, tell you to take Joyce and anybody that would listen and run. But I couldn't. I hit a wall or something, and not like before where it hurt too much to keep going. This was different, like something kicked me out of the rewind. I realized later that it was probably when I tried to go back through my contest picture, that I couldn't rewind farther than that, but I don't think I thought about it that much. I was only thinking about getting back to save you."

Chloe kept an eye on her, stomach full of butterflies. She knew how these memories affected Max and this was making her incredibly nervous. As she watched, though, she realized that Max seemed unfazed this time, almost detached, and Chloe remembered something she'd said yesterday - that it was easier to keep them separate from herself in this place. Thankful, she finally relaxed and settled back to listen.

"The only thing I could think of was stealing a car. It's crazy how many people in a gas station play with their keys or put them on the counter or something. All I had to do was grab them and rewind. The plan was to drive for a while, rewind until I hit the wall, then find another car, all the way back to Arcadia. I think I knew it was nuts, that it would never work if I could only rewind a couple minutes at a time - I had to drive like seven hundred miles. But I also knew that my rewind had only ever stopped before because it started to hurt, and I thought that maybe I could just push through that. So I let five minutes go by before I rewound to the wall, then ten, then twenty. It sucked, like really bad, but I think I got up to about an hour. Everything goes kinda fuzzy there. I barely remember any of what came next, except for my nose bleeding all over the place and an unbelievably excruciating headache. I don't know why, but near the end rewinding got really easy all of a sudden, like actually effortless. I think I could have gone for hours, but I was too exhausted to really think about it.

"I remember getting back to the Bay. The roads were blocked with junk and I was on the wrong side of town. When the rewind stopped, the storm was just starting to get really bad. I could barely think I was so tired, like completely drained. All I know is that the only thing I wanted was to get to the Two Whales. To get to you. But if I had a plan, I have no clue what it was. I remember rewinding a bunch like I did the other time, trying to get through town alive, and then nothing. Maybe I passed out during a rewind, or something. It had definitely happened a few times by that point. Or maybe I got hurt, I don't know. I just know that everything goes blank and I wake up in that room."

Max hesitated as a look of disbelief crossed her face. "Holy shit, that place is _so_ fucked up." She went silent, and Chloe wasn't sure if she planned to continue.

"Do you think someone saw?" The other Chloe asked carefully. "I mean someone that mattered. Think about the art gallery - you said there were lots of people, and from their perspective they saw a weird ghost and then you straight up vanished into thin air. If the wrong person saw that, they might want to figure out what's going on. And you were featured at the show, so people knew who you were. It's not a stretch to think they'd check Arcadia Bay. If you got taken to the hospital they'd definitely find out."

Chloe found herself nodding along. "Yeah, my first thought was government shitheels. Kidnapping teenagers seems like something they'd be into."

"Maybe," Max said. "I was still out of it at first, but I know they did a lot of tests. Like, medical ones. And they tried to get me to tell them what I could do, but they never asked directly. This man came in the first day to talk. He reminded me of my dad a little, but younger - a beard and flannel kinda look. And I _liked_ him for some reason. It was so weird. I told him everything and didn't realize it was strange until after he left. It took me a couple rewinds until I made it through without blabbing, but then he kept coming back. A couple more times that day. It was easier then because I knew what was going on, but I still had to rewind some."

"Shit, did those fuckers drug you or something?" Chloe felt outrage bubble up, livid at the prospect of Max being prodded by faceless assholes.

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure they did later, after they realized what they did the first day wasn't working." Max's detached composure was slipping a bit. Apprehension and incredulity began to creep into her tone. "When he came back the next day he had a woman with him, and it was different. I can't explain how they did it, but they gave me dreams somehow, or something a lot like dreams. I don't know what they were. They were super vivid, and everything was calm and relaxing and happy. Way harder to resist than the day before. I had to rewind so many times, and it was never the same, even after a rewind. One time I was sitting outside Blackwell, talking to this really awesome new teacher. In another I was at home in Seattle, drinking tea with my aunt. Stuff like that, and always really convincing. But it was never a teacher or my aunt or any of the others they pretended were real. It was always that woman.

"After a few visits where I rewound until I could keep my mouth shut, the man stopped coming. It was just the woman after that, and the dreams stopped being so convincing. They got really dark, like they weren't going for the good cop thing anymore. But I just kept going, rewinding every time I cracked until I got it right. That must be why it feels like I've been there for so long. Who knows how many rewinds it's taken to get through it all." She shook her head slowly and looked at Chloe with disbelief. "God, it's just pure spite now. The only reason she's still going. She's not sure that she can get out, but there's no fucking way she's telling them what they want to know, even if it means she's stuck there."

"Jesus Christ," Chloe breathed. It was beyond horrifying, and her heart broke for that other Max. "Has she tried to get out?"

"She's still trying. But everything's keycards and PIN codes, and there's an elevator without any buttons that she can't figure out how to work."

"Jesus Christ," she said again. Max grimaced, and Chloe realized she had been clutching her hand much too tightly. She released her and looked around, suddenly remembering they weren't alone. The other Max's eyes were dark with fury, but the other Chloe seemed nearly as confused as she was upset.

"Okay," Chloe's double eventually said. Quietly, as if testing the waters. "The only way I see for the thing with the dreams to be possible is if there's some super secret government research thing going on, and I mean like MK-Ultra level insane mind-control shit. So doesn't it kind of have to be them?"

It made sense to Chloe, but she was still too dumbstruck to do more than nod weakly. Neither Max offered a response.

The other Chloe looked at them a moment before sighing tiredly. "We all need a break. Do we want to stay here or come back later? I feel like there's so much more we can figure out about everything. There has to be something we're missing."

"Let's come back later," Chloe said, suddenly noticing her own exhaustion. "I think we need a real break."

 

* * *

 

The other Chloe's desire to get to the bottom of things was infectious. It gave them a goal, something external they could focus their nervous energy on. Chloe was skeptical of how far they'd be able to get, but couldn't deny that it felt good to take a step back, to calmly examine everything that had taken place last week. A long afternoon nap and a huge carton of lo mein had done wonders for her nerves, and the inherent peace they found in their strange refuge continued to soften the mood.

"Like this?" she asked as she drew a black dot on the back of Aaron's bookcase with her marker, labeling it _2008_. She added two lines extending to the right, one marked _Original_ , the other _William_. They had spun the bookcase around to serve as a makeshift whiteboard, and Chloe now stood, marker at the ready, waiting for her double's approval.

"Yeah, but there should a third timeline," the other Chloe replied.

"Three? I thought Max went back to the original one."

"She burned the picture of us, so things are different. Besides, even if she had done everything exactly like before, her thoughts still couldn't have been the same. Different electrical signals, different brain chemistry, different timeline. Every time she used a photo, she created a new one."

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense," Chloe said as she went back to the drawing. "Damn, it's hot when I'm clever."

"Chloe, stop flirting with yourself," one of the Maxes complained from behind her, feigning boredom. "It's getting old."

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm irresistible," she joked as she added the third line. "Besides, I'm a sucker for a challenge. It's usually way easier than this for me to get into my own pants."

Her double let loose a surprised laugh and both Maxes groaned in unison. Chloe ducked, half expecting a flying couch cushion, but none came. She stood and turned around.

"Okay, what's next?" she asked.

The chart eventually came to resemble something like a strange family tree tilted over onto its side. New lines branched off at various points, leading to nine separate versions of reality. Chloe couldn't shake the creepy feeling that surfaced when she realized she was dead in most of them. Something else caught her eye.

"What's up with the first timeline, the original one?" she asked, tapping it with the butt of the marker. "It's pretty much the same as the one Max came back to from Dad's timeline. Are you sure there aren't versions of us running around there too?"

"Yeah," Max answered. "I would've felt something, I'm sure of it. There's just the four of me."

Chloe ignored the oddity that was that statement as she grabbed a seat on the couch next to her. "You must've done more than just burn the picture when you went back," she guessed. "Did you do anything else?"

"I talked to you, but that's all," Max replied. "I felt so terrible about what was going to happen. There was no way I could leave you without saying anything."

"Holy shit, that's it," she said in disbelief, absolutely floored. When her double had described her vision of the thirteen-year-old Max at her bedside, she had been too distracted to make the connection. Now things were slipping into place. "What you said to me the day Dad died. I always figured it was just you being you and not knowing how to tell me you were moving, but it was _you_. Like, the _now_ version of you. God, I used to think about what you said all the fucking time after you left. And I remembered it again on Wednesday after we had that fight. Which is pretty fucked up, because I think that's before you said it, from your point of view. But it's one of the reasons I texted you, and you probably wouldn't have said anything like that in the first timeline. I'm sure I would've texted eventually, if I hadn't thought about it, but probably not the same day."

"Things would have been so different." Max's eyes were wide with realization. "Who knows what could have happened."

"Butterfly wings," the other Chloe said, almost to herself, and gave a self-conscious half-smile when everybody turned to face her. "Sorry. I was just thinking about the diner. When Max went to get the picture from that guy, she had to stop the place from going up in flames. But it didn't in your timeline for some reason, even though she wasn't there."

"Butterfly wings," the other Max echoed, a strange look on her face. "I wonder what else we changed without realizing."

"So ..." Chloe's double started after a pause, frowning as if collecting her thoughts. "I've been confused about something all day, and seeing all the timelines drawn out like this just makes it worse. The storm doesn't make sense to me. Like, when things happen, there are always reasons. I mean laws of nature, cause and effect type reasons. Maybe this thing is just supernatural and it doesn't work that way, but I feel like it should, and I can't figure out what made the storm happen."

"Think about it," she continued, splitting her gaze between the two Maxes. "If it came because you saved someone who should have died, then why wasn't there one five years ago? You saved Dad, and nothing happened. So was it specifically about me? I don't get why it would matter for me and not Dad, but if _does_ for some reason, then the storm probably shouldn't have happened after I died in the junkyard. But it did."

"I've been thinking that it was me messing around with time that screwed everything up," Max said, understanding growing in her eyes as she looked at Chloe's sketch. "That going back and not using my powers stopped the storm. But time was already pretty messed up. Letting Chloe die didn't fix any of that."

"Exactly!" The other Chloe was getting animated now, nearly raising her voice. "There were a bunch of other timelines by that point. There've _been_ a bunch of timelines since 2008, and nothing happened until last week. Plus, that Blackwell timeline without the storm was already changed - you destroyed your Everyday Heroes picture _before_ you took the butterfly one. You also rewound the first time you saw me get shot. 'Reset' might be a better word, but still, you had to go take the picture again. And you rewound to fix your camera. You'd already used your powers in that timeline, _before_ I got shot."

"You don't think Max caused the storm," Chloe blurted out, shocked at the sudden understanding of what her double was hinting at.

"They're obviously _connected_ , but I really don't think she did. There has to be something else." She paused for a second and shook her head. "I don't know why letting you die at Blackwell worked. Butterfly wings, I guess. It would've been a massive deal for the town, so who knows how that change would spread out into everything. It definitely changed _something_ , though."

Chloe turned to find Max wearing a look of such bewildered amazement that she had to laugh. She threw an arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, getting a grin in response.

"Whatever it was that changed, it probably happened that Monday," the other Max pointed out. "Things got weird like right away, with the snow and then the eclipse."

"Okay, something that goes down on Monday but doesn't if that little shit shoots me," Chloe recapped, trying to imagine how things would play out after her death. "Can't be that hard to figure out, right?"

 

* * *

 

When their meeting petered out a couple of hours later, they found themselves frustratingly far from actual answers. Nothing they came up with could even begin to explain the storm, what had led one Max to have visions but not the other, or the awful captivity of Max's San Francisco counterpart. Chloe was starting to think they would never be able to explain it all, that they simply didn't have enough information. Back at the motel, even her belief in her double's assertion that Max's powers hadn't brought about the storm was waning. It was as if the other girl's certainty had prompted her own somehow, and without its influence she found herself beginning to lose confidence.

Max showed no such doubt. She had grabbed for the idea like she had been drowning in guilt, and Chloe began to understand just how powerfully the storm had been haunting her. It wasn't a new realization, but seeing the immediate changes in Max brought home the extent of it. As soon as they had returned her eyes had been brighter, her smile easier and her laugh closer. Chloe could _feel_ the tension leave her body the second they exited the photo. Properly relaxed for maybe the first time since last week, it wasn't long before she crashed completely, fully clothed and sprawled out on top of the covers, snoring like she was sawing wood. It was good to see, and Chloe stamped down the tiny voice that worried about what would happen if they learned that her double had been wrong about everything.

The muted TV lit the room, playing some late night talk show that Chloe barely noticed while she sat at the little table, idly messing around on Max's laptop. She'd spent the afternoon napping, and was still too full of energy to think about getting into bed. Bored, she stood and started to glance around for her cigarettes when Max's phone rang, startlingly loud in the silent room. She quickly snatched it up and hit _decline_ , thumbing the button down to vibrate, but it immediately started buzzing in her hand as texts rolled in. _Of course it's her_ , she thought with a scowl when she caught the name. Which was strange, because she didn't remember the two of them ever talking, only texting. Curious, she opened up the messages.

 

**Victoria 10/16 11:41 pm**

_I really need your help_

**Victoria 10/16 11:41 pm**

_Please answer_

**Victoria 10/16 11:41 pm**

_This is an emergency_

 

"Oh, fuck me," Chloe swore as the phone began to ring again.


	6. Into the Wild

"Yeah?" Chloe answered the phone warily as she stepped out into the night air. Max would want her to take the call, she knew, but forcing her thumb to tap the button had still taken actual effort. She stuck a cigarette between her teeth and patted her pockets searching for a lighter.

"Oh. It's _you_." It might have been years since she'd last spoken to Victoria, but her tone instantly brought her face to mind - eyebrows raised, upper lip slightly curled in haughty disgust. "Put Max on."

"Sleeping," Chloe said curtly, lighting up with a heavy drag.

"So, wake her up? It's not complicated."

"No," Chloe replied through a lungful of smoke. "What do you want?"

"Yeah, because I obviously called to talk to you. Put Max on." She sounded very un-Victoria in some way, Chloe noticed, and the sarcasm didn't land quite right. It came off strained and a little forced.

"No," she said again, her patience already nearly gone. "I'm not waking her up if this is some stupid drama queen bullshit. Tell me what you want, or I'm hanging up and turning this fucking phone off."

"Fine. Nathan is at my house."

Chloe froze, cigarette halfway to her mouth. Seconds passed as her mind grappled with that statement.

"Not fucking funny, Victoria" she finally said, clinging to hope that this was some kind of perverse prank despite the gravity in Victoria's voice.

"Not. Fucking. Joking." Victoria replied, clipping her words sharply. "He showed up and just -"

"Are you actually insane?" Chloe cut her off. Her disbelief was fading rapidly, being replaced with a sick sort of confusion that made her heart race. "Why the fuck would you call Max? If that piece of shit is still alive somehow, call the _police_ , you dumb fuck! He's a fucking _murderer_!"

"He says he didn't -"

"And you believe him? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?" A light came on in the room next door, and Chloe realized she had been shouting into the phone.

"Chloe, can I please just talk to Max?" Victoria asked quietly. It was such a startlingly deferential request coming from her that Chloe had to pause.

"We'll call you back," she said, hanging up before the other girl could respond and holding the button down until the screen went dark. A man poked his head out of the next door down, expression more concerned than annoyed. Chloe gave him a little wave and what she hoped was an apologetic smile. He retreated, seemingly satisfied, and she leaned back against the building, quickly sucking down the last of her cigarette.

Somebody had obviously faked Nathan's death, and done it so well that even the police had been duped. Or paid off, maybe. It had been hard to miss all the news coverage - they had found his body over the weekend and charged Jefferson with murder almost immediately. It could only have been his family, she decided, but what reason could they have? If they were trying to keep him out of jail, this was a monumentally stupid way to go about it. They were beyond loaded - they could easily have hired a team of lawyers and railroaded everything onto Jefferson. It made no sense.

The taste of burning filter filled her throat, and she coughed out a painful cloud as she flicked the butt into the parking lot. She paused, one hand resting on the door handle. For a few brief seconds, the notion of simply leaving the phone off sounded terribly appealing, if only to spare Max whatever bullshit was going to come out of this. But it wasn't up to her alone, and she knew that they would both have to deal with it eventually. Scowling, she opened the door to find Max awake and sitting up in the glow of the silent TV, apparently waiting for her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked sleepily. "I thought I heard you yelling."

Chloe wasn't sure how to answer that. "I don't know," she said as she switched the lights on and sat down on the bed next to Max. "Maybe not, but don't freak out, okay?"

"You can't say that and then expect me not to," Max said, trying to joke but not quite succeeding. "I kinda am a little, already."

"Sorry. Victoria just called you," Chloe told her as she handed her phone back. "She says Nathan is still alive and he's at her house. She wants to talk to you."

Max's expression wavered between confusion and shock before finally settling into an extremely perplexed frown.

"How is that possible?" she asked. "How can he be alive?"

"They must've faked his death. I don't know how they did it. Or why."

"Chloe, Jefferson was practically _gloating_ about killing him. Why would he lie? He was going to kill me, too." Something else occurred to her and her frown deepened. "And didn't they find the body?"

"I have no idea what happened, but listen." Chloe met Max's eyes seriously. "This is not our problem. We don't have to call Victoria. Let's just call the cops instead, okay? They can deal with this shit and you don't even have to get out of bed. Do you know where she lives?"

"Portland. Her dad's place," Max replied absently, mind clearly elsewhere. "But she's not stupid, if she wants to talk to me there's gotta be a reason."

"You want to call her," Chloe surmised, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

"Yeah. Shouldn't we at least hear what she wants before we decide what to do?"

Chloe grimaced and blew air out through her lips. Max was probably right, but that didn't mean she had to like it. "Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "If you're sure."

"Just don't yell at her again, okay?" Max said, a small smile taking any possible sting out of her words. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"No promises," Chloe replied, deciding it would be easiest if she simply kept her mouth shut.

Victoria picked up on the first ring. The phone lay on the bed between them, and her voice was thin and tinny through the little speaker.

"Do you think he's dangerous?" Max asked with barely any preamble. "He pulled out a gun more than once last week."

"I don't think so," Victoria replied. "But he's acting really weird. Not like violent or anything, but like _crazy_ weird. When he got here, he rang the fucking doorbell and asked if he could come in, like everything was totally normal. Mostly he's just been lowkey ranting since then, but he seems like super confused and I don't understand most of it. Dad's still out of town and I didn't know what to do, so I fed him some Xanax and put him in the den. He's starting to chill finally, I think. I don't hear him talking to himself anymore."

"But why call me, though? Why not his parents or the police or somebody?"

"He almost flipped his shit when I suggested calling his dad. Said he didn't want to go back. And he's my friend." She paused as if reconsidering. "Was my friend. I can't just call the cops on him when I have no clue what's going on."

 _Yes, you fucking can_ , Chloe thought angrily. The words were nearly out of her mouth when Max's hand on her arm stopped her. Max shook her head and waited for Victoria to keep talking.

"Most of what he's saying makes literally zero sense, but he asked about you. And Chloe. But that's not the only reason ..." Victoria let out an annoyed huff. "I _so_ don't want to talk about this, but okay. I totally didn't believe you when you said nothing happened after the party. And when everything I thought I remembered started showing up on the news, I knew something seriously fucked up was going on. God, you better know what I'm talking about. Please say you do."

"I do. It never really happened, though." Max seemed curiously calm. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it's completely grotesque. I have dreams about _being murdered_. Why would I ever want to _talk_ about it?" She seemed taken aback by the question, her voice dripping with distaste. "I honestly thought I might be going crazy, so I ignored it, but then Nathan came back from the dead asking if you were alive, and I started remembering other shit that also definitely never happened, most of it about you, but the point is I called because I _know_ this has to do with you somehow and I have _no idea what's happening_!"

By the end, Victoria had lost control of her words like a dam giving way. They stumbled over each other and ran together into a high-pitched whine, and when she finished Chloe could hear her breathing heavily into the phone.

"Um, hello?" Victoria asked nervously, as if she was scared nobody was listening.

"I'm still here," Max reassured her, looking at Chloe with wide eyes.

"Do you know what's going on?" Once she had let her composure slip, there was no getting it back. Fear had edged its way into her voice, bordering on actual panic. "Can you tell me? Or like maybe come here and help me or something? Because I _really_ don't know what I'm supposed to do right now and I'm like _this_ close to completely losing my shit."

"We can explain some of it, but not really that much." Max shot Chloe a nervous glance, almost apologetic. "Can you send me your address? I don't know how to get -"

"What?!" Chloe exploded, jumping to her feet. "What she's _supposed_ _to do_ is call the police and fucking run, not drag you into this. There's no reason you need to go anywhere near that sick fuck!"

"God, Max, control your -" Victoria was cut off as Chloe angrily stabbed at the phone with her finger.

"Are you out of your mind?" she asked, trying not to yell and almost pulling it off.

"Chloe, if we just turn him in we don't learn _anything_." Max said heatedly, her eyes piercing. "And I am so _sick_ of not understanding. I _need_ to know what's going on!"

"But he's deranged! You have no idea what he's gonna do!" Chloe's mind offered up uninvited memories of violence. "He killed Rachel. He killed _me_!"

"I know," Max said carefully, softening her voice and speaking deliberately slowly. "I don't want to either, but he can't do anything with me there. I can rewind as soon as anything happens. You don't even have to come, if you don't want."

Chloe sighed and shook her head. This was a Max she recognized from childhood. Calm and conciliatory, patiently walking her back from whatever it was that had lit her fuse.

"I'm not mad, Max," she said as the fight went out of her. She sat back down on the bed. "I'm scared. I hate the thought of you being around him, and I sure as shit never want to see that fucker again."

"You can stay here," Max suggested, "and I could drive over."

"Not a chance." Chloe forced a grin she didn't feel. "Can you even drive stick? Besides, what if you go all weird again? You could end up in a ditch."

"Oh yeah, I didn't think about that."

"So, I guess we're taking that road trip, then?" Chloe asked, not quite believing that she was going along with this. Max's mind was obviously made up, and there was no way she was letting her go alone.

"I guess. But let's save the strip clubs for next time." Distracted, Max's token wisecrack sounded halfhearted, and it was hard to miss the worry in her eyes.

 

* * *

 

The night was mild and the sky clear. Nearly full, the moon overhead lit their way with a soft glow. They stopped for caffeine and gas before leaving town, and Max had called Victoria while Chloe filled up the truck. From what Chloe had heard, their conversation was mostly one sided. Max's account of their ordeal was succinct but thorough, and Victoria was evidently either too confused or too stunned to offer much in the way of replies. Chloe was surprised at her apparent willingness to believe everything Max told her. She had expected healthy skepticism at best and mocking disbelief at worst, but Victoria had shown hardly any resistance at all to the ideas, offering the occasional agreeable noise as if whatever memories she'd found were strong enough confirmation of Max's story. Since the call, the ride had been mostly quiet, both girls lost in their own thoughts.

It should have been a pleasant late-night drive down mostly empty roads, but Chloe's head would not let her be. She tried to focus on driving, but constant thoughts intruded, unbidden and unwelcome. Again and again she pictured Nathan creeping towards her holding a camera, or firing his gun point blank into her chest, or his vile pose next to Rachel in the junkyard. She remembered the nauseating, all-consuming rage she had felt last week, when the only thought she could hold onto was putting a bullet in him. Her palms were sweaty against the wheel, and her fear of confronting him had collected into something solid in her gut that grew heavier the farther they drove.

"You okay?" Max asked, and the shock of the sudden words made Chloe jump. For the past half-hour or so, Max had been staring quietly out the window, lightly drumming her fingers on her leg. Chloe wondered what had prompted the question.

"I can handle it," she answered, only kind of honestly. It was definitely stretching the truth a bit, but she knew Max already felt terrible for roping her into this. There was no need to make it worse. "Any deep thoughts over there?" she asked, hoping for a distraction.

"Just thinking about what we talked about earlier, with the others," Max replied. "If we're right, that something happened Monday to cause the storm, what if it really did have to do with Nathan? I know we brought it up already, but that was before all of this."

That had been Chloe's first thought that afternoon. The obvious and most immediate change caused by her death, other than her being dead, would have been Nathan going straight to jail instead of being free to go about whatever twisted things he was into. They hadn't been able to find a satisfactory explanation for what might have happened, but the possibility definitely seemed much more likely now than it did then.

"It might not be just him, either," Max continued. "There was all that weird stuff his dad was saying, and do you remember if I showed you the construction papers I found in the bunker?"

"Nope, don't think so." That whole place was kind of a blur, and it didn't ring a bell.

"Sean Prescott spent like a million plus building that shelter. I guess the money doesn't really matter, but he named it 'Stormbreaker Bunker'. I didn't remember until a little bit ago."

"Do you think he knew what was coming?" Chloe asked, trying and failing to make that fit with everything else they had guessed about the storm.

"Maybe?" Max replied. She sounded unsure, and Chloe saw she was back to tapping her fingers on her knee. "I mean, I guess it _could_ be a coincidence if it really was supposed to be a storm shelter. But if I had visions of the storm, maybe someone else did too. There's no reason I should be special."

"I can think of a few reasons," Chloe said absently, reflexively joking over her nerves. There was too much to think about, and this new idea just added fuel to the thoughts thumping painfully around her skull. A green sign alerted her to an upcoming turnoff. "Which exit do we take again?"

Max checked her phone, face lit briefly by the pale light. "Not this one, but the next one. Shouldn't be too much farther."

The moon passed behind a cloud as they rolled to a stop at the bottom of the exit ramp, and thunder rumbled deeply from somewhere nearby. _That seems about right_ , Chloe thought to herself with a mental groan as she pulled out onto the road. Lightning began to flash as they neared Victoria's neighborhood, but the rain she was expecting never fell.

"Dry lightning," she explained, as if words might help ease the perception of a bad omen. "But it usually only happens in deserts, or places where it's dry enough for the raindrops to evaporate before they hit the ground." She paused, surprised by what she'd just said. The thought felt distinctly foreign, and she couldn't quite place how she knew it.

In the passenger seat, Max checked her phone again. "Next left," she said. "We're almost there."

They were in the hills northwest of the city, and the left turn took them up a slope into the swankiest neighborhood Chloe had ever seen. Lightning strikes threw sharp shadows against the ritzy houses as they drove past, and Chloe found her foot easing back on the gas pedal. She was starting to lose her nerve now that they were so close.

Victoria's house sat up a steep hill and far back from the road, nestled into an alcove created by a rocky outcropping in the hillside. From the bottom of the driveway, they could see her sitting on the front steps, silhouetted by the light escaping through a two-story glass and granite entrance-way. The house was boxy and overly modern, embellished with too much glass and steel.

Their drive ended in front of a three-car garage, and Chloe's truck groaned to a stop next to an expensive looking and crookedly parked Mercedes. Her hand shook as she cut off the engine. She felt clumsy, like she wasn't sure how to make her fingers turn the key properly.

"It's okay if you want to wait out here," Max suggested, resting one hand gently on Chloe's arm. "I know how much this sucks. I don't want to do this either, but I have to know."

"Uh-uh." Chloe shook her head and swallowed nervously. She knew Max was right, that there was nothing she couldn't rewind away, but the thought of her alone with him sent hot shocks of alarm through her body. Waiting in the truck was out of the question. "I'm with you all the way."

Max nodded, giving her a quick but firm hug before slipping down from the cab. Chloe followed slowly as Max stepped onto the flagstone path leading to the front door. She tried to stop imagining all the ways this could go horribly wrong, but found that effort hopeless.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Max asked from up ahead, and Chloe realized she was standing still.

"Yeah," she lied, suddenly remembering what was in her glove-box. "I, uh, just forgot my cigarettes. I'll be right behind you."

The gun was where she thought it was, buried underneath old parking tickets and empty cigarette packs. It felt good in her hand as she slipped it into her jacket pocket, heavy and cold. She wasn't expecting to need it, but its lethal weight resting against her side was reassuring, like she'd finally found some small measure of control over this fucked up scene.

"... watching TV." Chloe heard Victoria say as she neared the steps. "He could be sleeping by now, I don't know. I haven't been inside since I got off the phone with you."

She sat on the top step, her regal pose at odds with her faded sweatshirt and pajama pants. Makeup free with messy hair, she almost looked like a different person. Her head turned slowly in response to Chloe's arrival, and she stared for a long second before blinking dismissively and turning back to Max. She seemed sluggish, and Chloe wondered if she'd maybe treated herself to some of the Xanax she mentioned earlier.

"Let's get this shit over with," Chloe said to Max. She ignored Victoria, returning the other girl's disregard in full.

Max finally seemed to hesitate, chewing on the inside of her lip as she looked at Victoria. "Do you think it's okay to talk to him? I mean, he won't like freak out or anything?"

"Not a clue," she replied, starting to stand. "But he seemed worried when he asked about you, so I doubt he'll be upset that you're here."

"Gee, what a swell guy," Chloe muttered, acid in her voice.

Victoria gave her a disdainful glance before turning towards the doorway. "He's in the den," she said, and continued in an almost tour-guide voice. "If you'd like to follow me, please?"

Inside, the place felt like a museum. Dark hardwood floors gleamed as she led them through a chic living room towards a set of double doors on the far wall. Chloe followed a few steps behind, left hand loosely grasping the revolver in her pocket. Tension pulsed painfully in her temples, like the memories that had plagued her were finally trying to batter their way out. Her thoughts had gone hazy, and it was hard to focus on what she was meant to be doing. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep up with Max.

Up ahead, Victoria reached the doors. She leaned into both handles and pushed them wide, revealing something closer to a hotel lounge than a den. It was dimly lit and plushly carpeted in white, with an actual bar set up in one corner. Floor to ceiling windows looked down over the hill they had just climbed, allowing random lightning to highlight the incomprehensible art that adorned the walls.

"Hello?" Victoria called weakly, barely audible over a rumble of thunder.

There was no sign of Nathan until a head popped up over the back of one of the leather couches. His hair was flat and greasy and the early fuzz of an awkward teenage mustache stained his upper lip. Glassy eyes took a moment to register their presence before an expression that could have been surprise crossed his face.

"Max!" he exclaimed as he clambered off the couch and moved towards them quickly.

Heart hammering in her throat, Chloe acted on straight instinct. Her first and only impulse was to keep him the fuck away from Max. She surged forward, roughly pushing the other two girls aside as she drove her palm into his chest. The shove had her entire weight behind it, and Nathan went sprawling back hard onto his ass. One arm knocked over an end table on his way down, and Chloe heard the sound of something breaking.

She stood over him, lungs heaving and brain cloudy with something raw and primal. Victoria was yelling from behind her, but it sounded distant and inconsequential under the roaring in her ears. She had just remembered the gun in her pocket when the world lurched sideways.

Vertigo crashed into her, immediate and stunning. She shut her eyes against the tide as she dimly felt a trembling hand draw the gun and level it at Nathan. Raised voices seemed to echo strangely, hers the loudest among them. It vanished as quickly as it came, fading after not even a second.

She opened her eyes to find the gun still in her pocket. Max suddenly stood at her side somehow, one hand on her arm.

"Uh ..." Chloe started hoarsely, perplexed but just for a moment. There was only one explanation. "Oh. You rewound."

"Yeah," Max nodded, gazing at Chloe thoughtfully. "Wait, did you -?"

"She has a gun," Nathan stated conversationally, making no effort to get up off the floor. Max gave him a startled look.

"I wasn't gonna do it, just scare him a little. Make sure he knows who's in charge," Chloe said, trying to pitch her words for just Max. Worry surfaced over the still throbbing adrenaline. "I didn't, right?"

"You didn't. You told him to stay on the ground or you'd shoot him." Max shook her head. "I thought we could've started better, so I rewound. I didn't expect him to remember."

"Um, who has a gun?" Victoria asked timidly, hands clasped in front of her in an almost comical depiction of concern. "And why are we talking about _shooting_ _people_ _!_?"

"Maybe I _should_ have shot him," Chloe said. Anger still coursed through her, and she was suddenly beyond fed up, sick of everything nearly to the point of tears. She looked down icily at Nathan. "He fucking deserves it."

"I'm sorry," Nathan said. He was quiet and pitiful, with dark rings sagging under dazed eyes. That just made her angrier. "I didn't mean to kill you, the gun just -"

"I'm talking about _Rachel_ , you sick fuck!" Chloe yelled, punctuating her name with a hard boot to his ribs. Satisfaction flashed as he curled up in pain. Max's hand tightened around her arm and pulled firmly, but she shook her off. "And you can't tell me _that_ was a fucking accident! I saw the pictures!"

Her cheeks were wet, and she wiped them roughly as she let Max pull her away. She teetered perilously close to the edge of something ugly. Breaking down into a sobbing mess and drawing the gun again both felt equally likely. Max's arm around her steadied her head a little, and she tried to breathe.

"It _was_ an accident, though. I didn't give her enough and she woke up. Mr. Jefferson said he had to ..." Nathan lay on his side, head angled awkwardly to rest on the carpet. He sounded indifferent somehow, his voice a subdued mumble. "But I don't know what happened the other time she disappeared. In the summer. It was probably him, too, but I don't know. She was just gone."

 _'The other time in the summer?'_ Chloe nearly asked, but shut her mouth when it hit her. There was a reality in which she and Rachel had never known each other. Of course things would have ended up different there. Overwhelmed and unexpectedly exhausted, she didn't fight when Max led her over to a couch.

"Okay." Victoria spoke up forcefully, as if remembering that she was the host of this absurd meeting. "Can we all just sit down and talk like _normal_ _people_?"

It took some time for her to coax Nathan to his feet and onto a couch. He was barely there, softly grumbling to himself and occasionally running a hand through his dirty hair. Victoria sat down next to Max and Chloe, as far away from Nathan as she could get.

"He was like this before," she told Max in a vaguely gossipy way, "but louder. The pills helped, I think."

"Did you ask him what happened?" Max asked. "How he got here?"

"Yeah, but -"

"He remembered what I did," Nathan broke in quietly, not quite looking at them. "They locked me up so I couldn't do it again."

"What you did?" Max prompted him. Victoria started to speak, but she shushed her with a raised hand.

"Yeah, what I did to the others." He gave a small nod as if he'd answered her question, eyes still fixed on some point far way and above their heads. "But I got out. Found his keys. Came here."

"Nathan, what did you do?" Victoria leaned forward expectantly. The concern in her voice made Chloe want to vomit. "Who are you talking about?"

"Same thing he did to me." His eyes briefly focused and he flashed them a ghastly smile. One hand rose to mime a gun with finger and thumb before falling limply to his lap. "But he wasn't there this time."

"You're talking about Jefferson, right?" Max asked, surprisingly patient. "And your father? He remembered that you shot him in the other timeline, so he kept you somewhere?"

Victoria let out a shocked yelp, and Chloe heard a quick whisper from Max. " _Later_."

"It's never enough, though," he mumbled with a tired sigh before leaning back into the cushions. He might have nodded, but it was hard to tell. "Not for what they did. I don't want to be like this anymore."

"Nathan," Max started slowly. "Did something happen last week? Something on Monday?"

 _"_ I could've left whenever I wanted," he said softly, ignoring her and letting his eyes close. His tone was conspiratorial, like he was sharing a secret. "But I like it here. It feels real. Solid."

"You remembered when I rewound a little bit ago." Frustration had finally begun to push its way into her questions. "Has that happened before?"

Eyes closed and head lolled back onto the couch, Nathan gave no sign that he'd heard Max at all.

"Hey!" Chloe barked, voice like a hammer. Bleary eyes opened to regard her dully. "Fucking answer!"

"I didn't tell them it was you," he replied after Max repeated herself. "But you should be careful. They want to know."

"What the fuck does that _mean_?" Chloe demanded, wanting nothing more than to strangle him until he started making sense. The implications of what he'd just said were terrifying. "Is that why you asked about Max?"

If Nathan understood the rest of their questions, he didn't show it. It wasn't clear if he didn't care enough to answer or didn't hear enough to care, but either way they weren't able to pull any more words out of him. Victoria swore impressively and marched over to the bar. Chloe watched as she poured herself a small glass from an expensive looking bottle.

Max leaned into her and snuck a hand into hers. "How're you doing?" she asked softly.

"Not great," Chloe answered honestly. Max's closeness was certainly helping, but she felt shaky and vaguely woozy, like the past few minutes had taken a toll. "What do you think he meant? The 'they' is obviously the Prescotts, but how could they know? Or want to know?"

"I have no idea, and I _really_ don't want to have to find out." She shuddered against Chloe's arm. After a second she continued, voice curious. "You remembered my rewind earlier, didn't you?"

"More like felt, but yeah. It was weird. Was that the first time you used it since the storm?"

She felt Max nod against her shoulder. "Yeah. I would've told you."

Chloe took a long breath and gathered her thoughts, not sure where to start. About to launch into the weirdness that was their conversation with Nathan, she was stopped by the sound of Victoria clearing her throat. She looked over to see her waggling a bottle at them from behind the bar.

"I don't know about you, but I need a fucking break," Victoria said, sipping her drink with one hand as she thumped the bottle down.

They stood, hands still linked. "I'm driving," Chloe said simply as they made their way to the bar.

"You guys can stay here," she replied hopefully. "The guest room is _really_ nice."

"Not with him in the house," Max said as she slipped onto a stool. Her tone said there would be no argument.

"Oh." Victoria said with a dissatisfied frown. She drained her drink and stared at Max for a second. "Maybe some coffee then?"

Chloe nodded, surprised that her offering glance had included her. An ashtray sat on the bar and she pulled it towards herself, digging in her jacket for her cigarette pack.

"Make yourself at home," Victoria said, exuding sarcasm.

"Thanks," Chloe replied as she lit her cigarette, suddenly lightheaded and much too tired for any real snark. "What're we gonna do with shithead over there? If we wanna get any more out of him, we'll need to -"

"Oh my god, can we _not_ right now?" Victoria complained as she hit a button on a complicated looking machine. Something whirred to life, probably grinding coffee beans. "Just let me have like five fucking minutes."

Whatever the machine was, it made excellent coffee. Her cloudy head seemed impossible to shake, but the coffee and cigarette routine was calming. Leaving the butt in the ashtray, she carried her mug over to the windows and gazed down over the sleeping neighborhood. It had to be a fantastic view when the sun was up, she thought distractedly. She noticed the trunk of what she assumed to be Nathan's car just visible in the driveway, and the intermittent lightning occasionally lit it brightly against the hillside.

Max sidled up next to her and slid an arm around her waist. Sipping her coffee, Chloe absently draped hers over Max's shoulders. It was hard to think through the growing lightheadedness, but something needled at her. She had noticed something but couldn't quite pinpoint what it might be. Lightning flashed, lighting up the car once again.

"Oh fuck," she swore as things finally clicked together. Coffee sloshed as she slammed her mug down on a nearby table and spun Max around to face her. "We need to leave _right fucking now_!"

"What?" Max squeaked in shock. "Why?"

"The fucking car!" she yelled as she tried to pull Max towards the doorway, half-noticing Nathan sitting up to stare blankly at them. "He said he stole his Dad's keys! There's no way a car that expensive doesn't have GPS, and you can track that shit. That's the first thing Prescott'll do when he notices Nathan's gone. They could be here any fucking second!"

Max wordlessly matched her hurried pace out of the den and through the living room. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught both Nathan and Victoria scrambling to catch up to them. That was fine with her, they could do whatever they wanted as long as she and Max left this instant. They were halfway to the front door when reality heaved again, like it was trying to buck her off.

Chloe lost all sense of herself, reason gone under a messy wave of perception. She heard furious banging on the front door, and for a second remembered a line of dark cars filing up the driveway as they watched, trapped inside. Dismay flooded into her as she pulled Max in another direction only to find someone there waiting, already inside the house. The figure had begun to raise what she prayed was a taser when the maelstrom subsided and she crashed back into her body.

She sat on the couch staring at Nathan, a conspicuous gap between her and Victoria where Max had been. Outside the room, running footsteps echoed loudly on hardwood. Max appeared at the door as Nathan stood up, his eyes wild. Sounds that were not quite words spilled from his mouth and he looked around frantically, one hand pulling at his hair.

It took barely an instant, but Chloe watched it happen in what felt like slow motion. He _dimmed_ , as if fading slightly from the world. For a moment the dark couch showed through his pale arms before he began to glow. The glow forced itself out into the room, growing brighter and seeming to harden until a huge and solid sphere of light blazed, impossible to look at.

Chloe wasn't sure if it made a noise when it burst, but it felt like it should have. Confusion rocked her, stunning like a blow to the head. She looked desperately for Max through the spots in her vision, searching for anything to hold onto as consciousness slid away, but there was nothing she could do against the relentless pull. She felt herself begin to slip sideways on the couch and knew no more.


	7. Unstuck

It was unsettling for her to wake up in the middle of the night, alone and in the dark. It almost never happened anymore, especially not lately, not with all the medications she needed to take. Chloe couldn't even remember the last time something had startled her awake - Mom and Dad were always tiptoe quiet while she was sleeping. She floated, eyes still closed, lost in that muddy half-realm between awareness and sleep.

 _Thunder_ _?_ she wondered, just barely remembering a brilliant flare of light. Something else prickled at the back of her mind, something urgent and chilling. _No_ _,_ she decided, _a nightmare_.

The details were impossible to grasp, but the feeling was unmistakable. It still clung to her thoughts, a simmering unease that grew sharper the more she looked at it. Unnerved, she tried to claw her way towards wakefulness but her eyes refused to cooperate, too heavy to budge no matter how hard she forced them open. Something suddenly felt terribly wrong, beyond whatever nightmare remnants still lingered.

This was Uncle Aaron's, she recalled, absurdly grateful at the realization that Max was asleep on the couch just a few feet away. She gathered her voice to call out, but could only muster a feeble breath, silent in the powerless way of bad dreams. Dread hit her like a wave and she tried again, pushing her friend's name out with panicked force.

"Max," she heard herself mumble weakly, and _felt_ the sound vibrate in her chest. Her eyes flew open in shock, all traces of sleep vanishing in an instant.

Torso twisted uncomfortably, she found herself slumped sideways, neck crooked in an odd slant. The room unblurred slowly as she tried to force herself upright. Heavy arms didn't seem to understand how to obey her properly. Purple and black spots danced in her vision, but she could make out a leather couch opposite her. It seemed she was looking at it through a shimmer, like a mirage above hot asphalt. The shimmer was the _surface_ of something, she realized with confusion as she finally managed to sit up. Like a sphere around the couch, or a dome extending from the floor, upwards to where its apex was swallowed by the ceiling.

Lightning struck, somewhere incredibly close. The noise was deafening. Glasses rattled behind the bar and memories rattled loose in Chloe's head. All at once she knew exactly where and exactly _who_ she was.

"Max!" she yelled as she rose to her feet, brushing aside the roaring disorientation. Leaden legs gave way immediately, and she pitched over to land on something soft that gave a protesting grunt. _Victoria_ , a disconnected portion of her mind noted before filing it away as unimportant. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, she noticed as she pushed herself back up. She was still seeing spots from that hellishly bright light, and no menacing figures with weapons had shown up to take them away.

They weren't here yet, she confirmed, checking the windows as she staggered in the direction of the door to the living room. She gave the fucked up dome a wide berth. There was no time to think about what that insanity might have been, but she did not want to find out what would happen if she strayed too close. Behind her, Victoria seemed to be waking up. A stream of confused curses filled the room.

Max sat in a heap on the hardwood floor, slumped against the wall just outside the door. Her heart sank to see the awful blankness in her eyes. Dropping to her knees with a heavy thud, Chloe took her firmly by the shoulders.

"This is _not_ the fucking time, Max." Her voice wavered with desperation as she gave her friend a hard shake, swearing again when she saw that the idea of waking her up was hopeless. Pulling a limp arm over her shoulders, she gathered her legs to haul Max to her feet. Strength eluded her and they collapsed in a pile, Chloe's elbow cracking painfully against the floor.

"What is going _on_!?" Victoria's pleading questions finally broke through. She stood in the doorway wringing her hands as she looked down at the two girls. "What the fuck is that _thing_? What's wrong with Max? Where is -"

"Shut up and _listen_ ," Chloe growled as she pushed herself up into a crouch, relieved to see Victoria do just that. "People are gonna show up any minute looking for Nathan, and we _do_ _not_ want be around when they get here. Don't worry about Max, she's gonna be fine if you fucking _help me_!"

"But -" A light passed across the wall of the den, briefly catching Victoria standing upright in plain view of the windows. _Headlights turning into the driveway_ , Chloe realized. She grabbed a fistful of sweatshirt and yanked, pulling Victoria stumbling into the living room.

"Back door!" Chloe demanded urgently, praying that nobody outside had noticed the other girl through the window. Adrenaline heaved her to her feet, dragging Max up with her. To her credit, Victoria caught on immediately. All questions gone, she quickly took Max's other side and led them towards a hallway at the back of the house.

From their hike up to the lighthouse on Friday, Chloe knew that Max could follow if you led her, but they had no time for that weak stumble. They careened wildly down the hall, Max slung between them like a drunk being carried home from the bar. Chloe felt her shoulder slam into something, knocking it from the wall to shatter loudly against the floor.

At the end of the corridor, Victoria turned them hard left and they scrambled down a handful of steps to a small mudroom. Jackets hung from hooks and a pair of boots had been tossed sloppily onto a mat by the door. It could only have taken a second or two, but the wait as Victoria's shaky hand fumbled with the latch was excruciating. Chloe urged her on wordlessly through gritted teeth.

They burst through the door onto a darkened patio, the hill at the back of the house looming large against the night sky. Chloe skidded to a stop, frozen with uncertainty. She'd been flying blind, giving little thought to anything beyond the burning need to get out of the house and keep running. Faced by the rocky slope, any plans that might have been forming suddenly disintegrated. There was no possible way to get Max up that hill. It was a dead end.

Her feet started moving again as she felt Victoria forcefully dragging them onward, towards the side of the house. She followed, not knowing what else to do and glad to stay moving. They paused at the corner and Chloe carefully poked her head around the edge. The thud of a car door closing sent her flinching back to safety, but not before she glimpsed the border of thick pines that lined the yard, running a couple hundred feet down to the road. A stretch of empty lawn lay between them and the trees. Meeting Victoria's eyes, she gestured and got a quick nod in response.

The short expanse of grass seemed endless as they scurried across, Max's feet dragging against the earth. Their footfalls and labored panting sounded fantastically loud in the night air, and Chloe was certain they must be audible all the way down by the road. Her shoulders tensed painfully as they ran, waiting for a shout to ring out from behind them or a flashlight to catch them in the open.

They reached the trees, nearly diving into them like runners across a finish line. Soft pine needles whispered underfoot, mercifully quiet. What little moonlight filtered through the clouds was unable pierce the branches, and the darkness underneath was almost absolute. Slowing to a crawl, they carefully moved deeper until after a few yards they reached the wooden fence that marked the edge of the property.

Letting Max down gently, they hunched quietly against the barrier to catch their breath. From the front of the house came the sound of more car doors followed by muffled voices. The murmuring grew closer as two quiet shapes made their way up through the side yard, the beam of a flashlight jittering across the ground ahead of them. Chloe released a shaky breath after the figures passed out of sight around back.

"We can't stay here," she hissed, struggling to keep her voice low while every instinct told her to panic. Not waiting for a response, she stood, trying to hoist Max upright. After a second, she felt Victoria take the rest of Max's weight as she rose unsteadily to her feet.

The trek to the bottom of the hill was harrowing. They hugged the fence as they crept down the slope, effectively blind and feeling their way forward inch by inch. Carrying an unconscious person through trees in pitch darkness was hard enough - doing it silently was virtually impossible. Every rustle of branches or snap of a twig sent Chloe's pulse soaring, positive that _this_ was the one they wouldn't get away with, that surely somebody must have heard. She kept her focus trained on the house, ready to break into a run the moment anything felt out of place.

By the time they made it all the way down to the road, her legs were shaky with fatigue. Her cheek burned where it had been caught by an errant branch, and pine needles scratched uncomfortably down the back of her jacket. They dropped gasping to the ground at the treeline, far enough away to begin to feel the promise of safety. Chloe squinted anxiously back through the branches, trying to catch a glimpse of the activity up at the house. A couple people hung casually around the cars in the driveway, but nobody seemed to be out searching. She started to relax. What they needed was a plan to get away from here. Maybe they could call a cab from up the street, she thought, suppressing a pang at the idea of leaving her truck behind.

Someone yanked hard on her sleeve. She turned to find Victoria waving crazily, and her eyes followed the frantic pointing. Her breath caught. They had been too fixated on what could be lurking behind them to pay any attention to what lay ahead. Parked by the side of the road, barely ten feet in front of them, was a black sedan. They could hear the sound of its engine ticking as it cooled. A faint light sprang to life inside the car, moving around strangely.

Chloe's boots scrabbled for purchase, heels hacking at the dirt as she tried to pull Max farther into the safety of the trees. She was halfway upright, hands hooked under Max's arms, when the car door opened. The dome light was startlingly bright, nearly blinding after their minutes in darkness. She knew they were caught even before the man stepped out of the car, phone to his ear. He might as well have hit them with a searchlight.

"So he's definitely not there, huh?" he said into the phone, his tone one of weary annoyance. The flare of a cigarette lighter briefly lit a bearded face. "Then you don't really need me to ... uh, lemme call you back."

He delivered the last line looking straight at them, then slowly brought the phone down to his side. Chloe straightened up to return the stare, completely unsure of what to do. Heart pounding, her fingers instinctively curled around the grip of the revolver in her jacket pocket. It wouldn't take much for him to raise the alarm. They were effectively hidden from the house by trees and it was too far for normal voices to carry, but a quick shout would easily bring backup at a run.

 _H_ _e_ _didn't say anything_ , she realized as hope blossomed. He had just been on the phone with someone at the house and he hadn't given them away.

"You need to leave," he told them, his voice low but firm. "You really don't want to be here."

"But I _live_ -" Victoria started to whine but the man cut her off.

"It doesn't matter. It's not -" Chloe saw him freeze, like the air had been knocked out of him. The cigarette ember shook as he raised an arm and pointed with two fingers. "That's Maxine," he said in a strange voice, suddenly urgent. "Just _go_. Right now."

She noticed the abrupt shift in mood, but didn't waste a second of thought trying to make sense of it. The fact that he somehow _knew_ Max cut through her paralysis and whipped her towards panicked motion. She had a gun and he had a car - the solution was clear. Striding forward out of the underbrush, she raised her arm until the muzzle was nearly flush with his chest.

"Keys!" she growled at him through bared teeth, praying she'd have the nerve to pull the trigger if he decided to try anything. Her other hand came up in a sharp give-it-here gesture.

The man spread his arms slowly out to his sides and smiled at her, immediately and utterly disarming. Chloe faltered, suddenly bizarrely guilty. He was trying to _help_ them, for fuck's sake. Why was she threatening him? The gun wavered, its barrel dipping a few inches.

"It's okay," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "Everything's going to be fine."

She believed him. The gun dropped a little farther. He definitely didn't look dangerous, she decided. Mid thirties, maybe, and slightly chubby, with a friendly smile behind a reddish beard. He wore a plaid button-down tucked into light jeans, its sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

"Uh, sorry," Chloe said sheepishly as she let the gun fall all the way to her side. A wisp of confusion greeted the realization that she kinda liked the guy, but it evaporated almost immediately. "It's just that my truck's stuck up there and we really need to get the fuck outta here. You have a car, so I thought..."

"Don't worry about it," the man said, relaxing noticeably and leaning back against the sedan. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose for a long moment, eyes squeezed shut. "Okay, this is a goddamn _terrible_ idea, but I think I can probably give you a ride. I just need to make a call first." He shook his head as he pulled up a number on his phone. " _Fuck_ , this is so stupid."

"Holy shit dude, thanks," she breathed, choosing to ignore whatever misgivings the man felt and take the offered gift. He raised the phone to his ear as she stuffed the gun back into her pocket and hurried over to where Max sat limply at the edge of the trees.

"It's Sully. Lemme talk to her," Chloe heard him say as she and Victoria pulled Max carefully to her feet. He continued after a short pause. "Hey. Listen, you don't need me if the kid's not there. I'm gonna turn around and ... I know, but what would I do? Don't tell me you actually got me out of bed at two-thirty in the morning to just stand there and ... Okay, thanks ... Yeah, you too."

Dirty jeans glided over leather upholstery as they deposited Max in the backseat. Chloe slid in the other side, picking stray pine needles out of Max's hair as she fastened their seat belts. Vacant eyes stared back at her, pulling sharply at her heart. She hated the idea that Max could be stuck in another timeline, maybe locked up in that horrible room. That thing in Victoria's house had knocked her sideways in time as well, and the thoughts she'd had had seemed so real, so undeniably true. If that was what it was like for Max when she went away, Chloe wasn't sure how she'd been able to bear it.

A door closed quietly as the man got into the driver's seat. "Call me Marty, by the way," he said. He started the car and began reversing slowly back down the road, evidently trying to remain out of sight of the house.

"Chloe," she said. In the passenger seat, Victoria didn't deign to answer, instead pulling out her phone and tapping angrily at the screen. A short way down the street, Marty made a three-point turn and they pulled away facing the right direction. Chloe turned and watched with relief as the house disappeared around a curve, quickly hidden by the hill. The lightning seemed to have abated, she noticed, and the moon was beginning to peek out around the clouds.

"Is she okay?" Marty asked.

"Yeah," Chloe replied with sudden certainty. She settled back down on the seat, far calmer than she had any right to be. It felt like something had turned the adrenaline knob all the way down to zero. Max's hand lay limply on the seat between them. Chloe took it, meshing their fingers together. "She's gonna be fine."

"I can _not_ believe I'm doing this," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Where can I even take you?"

"Do you know Franklin?" Chloe asked. It was a long drive, but if he was actually willing to take them she wouldn't say no. The only other place that came to mind was Seattle, and that was a ridiculous ask. "Shithole north of Arcadia Bay? We've got a motel room there."

"Bad idea," he said, shaking his head. "If they have your car, they know who you are. They'll get to your motel before too long."

 _Why the fuck would they even care?_ she wanted to ask, but her mind jumped tracks when she thought about the things they had left in their room. The rest of their money was obviously important, but the photograph from the other world and that little metal box of Rachel's things she'd rescued from her bedroom were literally irreplaceable. Leaving them behind was unthinkable.

"Dude, we're super fucking grateful for the ride," Chloe said, "but there's shit in Franklin that we need. If you don't want to take us, we'll figure out another way."

He was silent for a moment, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "Did you pay with a credit card? Or mention where you're staying online? Facebook or whatever?"

"Cash. And nope, nothing online."

"Okay, that'll probably be fine then. But you should be quick, and after that you're on your own. There's only so much I can do." Marty paused and then grunted out an awkward laugh. "If we're going to be near Arcadia Bay, maybe I can finally see if my house is still standing. Haven't been back since the storm."

"No shit, you're from the Bay?" Chloe asked, surprised until it occurred to her that he worked for Prescott - it made sense he'd live nearby. That gave her pause, and for the first time she felt a flicker of doubt, briefly wondering if she should actually be trusting him. They knew absolutely nothing about this person.

"I have a place there," he replied, bringing the car to a stop at the edge of Victoria's subdivision. He looked both ways and pulled out, heading in the direction Chloe and Max had come from earlier that night. "But I've been staying at my apartment in Portland. It's easier for -"

"There's a diner right up here by the highway," Victoria cut in unexpectedly. "You can drop me off there."

Shocked silence greeted her request. "Uh," Marty started. He sounded as perplexed as Chloe felt. "I don't really think that's -"

"Oh my god, I don't want to fucking stop for _pancakes_ ," Victoria said snidely. She held up her phone. "A car's gonna pick me up in like five minutes. In an hour I'll be on a plane to New York. My father's there."

"I guess that's as good a plan as any," he replied with a shrug. "But they'll keep looking for you if they think you know anything about Nathan."

"Fuck Nathan," Victoria spat. "And fuck them. I have no fucking clue what's actually going on right now, or what any of that shit at my house was. I don't even want to know." Grabbing the back of her seat, she twisted around to face Chloe. "But I'm worried about Max. This whole situation is seriously fucked up. You guys can come with me, if you want. Dad will help us. He _hates_ Sean Prescott, and this is _not_ going to go over well with him."

Chloe swore softly as she glanced over at Max, wishing she was awake to help her figure this out. The idea of getting as far away as possible sounded incredibly tempting. On the other hand, it seemed like an overreaction, and running away to leave everything behind didn't feel right. Plus, she doubted they would be able to march a nearly unconscious girl through an airport and onto a plane without somebody objecting. She pictured her little box, filled with Rachel memories and tucked away in a drawer in their motel room. Her mind was made up, she realized.

"Thanks," she said uncertainly, hoping she was making the right choice, "but like I said, we've gotta grab some stuff from our motel room."

"Suit yourself." Victoria turned back around. "You can call if you change your mind."

Fluorescent light spilled out onto the pavement through wide windows as Marty pulled up to the diner's doors. Inside, a few people sat eating - late night stoners or long-haul truckers, Chloe guessed. The normality of it jabbed at her uncomfortably, and she suddenly longed to be sitting in the Two Whales with Max, omelets and coffees between them while Joyce fussed around behind the counter. Max's hand was still in hers, she realized. She pulled it into her lap, fidgeting gently with the ring on her finger.

"Offer's open. Call if you need to," Victoria said, beginning to step out before the car had fully stopped. She straightened up and slammed the door without another word. They pulled away and left her standing just outside the diner, looking out into the night as she waited for her ride.

"Uh," Chloe said, her mind finally starting to work through what had just happened. "So, definitely gonna need some answers before I start losing my shit back here. What the fuck is going on with Nathan? How is he still alive?" She stopped there, not sure how to even begin to ask about the strange dome of light.

"I can't really answer that because I honestly don't know," Marty said, shaking his head apologetically.

Chloe exhaled sharply in frustration. "Okay, then why are you helping us?" she asked, pulling another question off the pile. The mistrust that had flared a few moments ago tickled at the back of her mind. "Can you answer that, at least?"

"Yeah, I can," he replied as he merged into non-existent traffic on the highway. A truck far ahead of them was the only sign of life this late at night. "Nathan wasn't with you, but with the way they've been acting I was pretty sure they'd grab you anyway if they could. Just to see what you could tell them. And to keep a lid on things." There was a short pause as he rubbed his eyes and let out a breath. "I don't know. I guess it's not the kind of thing I could just let happen."

"Okay, so you're a good dude." Chloe wondered at the wince she caught in the rear-view mirror. "But I still don't get it. All you had to do was not turn us in. We were practically gone already. Why the hell would you drive us all the way to Franklin? And how are you even one of Prescott's fucking goons if you're not on board with all their shit?" She shut her mouth reluctantly. If she didn't stop talking, the questions would just keep spilling out of her.

"I'm _not_ one of his fucking goons," he insisted, prickly like she'd hit a nerve. "I've worked for him for years doing a lot of different things, but never strong-arm shit like that. Nominally I was his PA even though that's nowhere close to covering it. I even tried to quit earlier this year. It was never what you'd call a healthy work environment, but things started to go downhill pretty goddamn fast and I wanted out. It didn't really end up like I thought it would."

"They didn't let you leave?" That didn't surprise her in the slightest.

"More or less, but maybe not like you think. It might have gone that way if I hadn't taken their deal, but it was too good not to." He snorted ruefully. "They offered me an unbelievably stupid amount of money to stay on for another year doing essentially nothing. The old man wants me with him for a few meetings a week, but that's basically it in terms of actual work. Other than that I was on call for when the kid needed to be settled down. Nathan, I mean. I'm, uh, good with him, I guess you'd say. That's why I was there tonight."

None of that made any sense, but Chloe let it slide. It was just more lunacy to add to the pile. "That still doesn't answer my question," she pointed out.

"Why am I helping you?" he asked, catching her eye in the mirror. She nodded and he turned back to the road, eyebrows low and bunched together in thought. After a long moment he seemed to come to a decision. "It was Maxine. I didn't want them to find out she was there. It wouldn't have gone well."

"It's Max," Chloe corrected quietly, remembering his baffling reaction earlier. Nathan's words played themselves back. ' _They want to know'_ , he had said. The thought was just as chilling as the first time, but the fear was muted, dulled somehow. Maybe she was just tired, she thought. "How do they ..." She paused, not sure how worried she needed to be about giving secrets away. "Why would they want Max?"

"This past weekend, some of us started having dreams," he explained. "They didn't seem important at first, at least not enough for anyone to mention anything, but Prescott apparently took his seriously. Monday morning he told everyone that if Nathan were to somehow return, he should be ... I forget the euphemism he used. _Sequestered_ , I think it was. Locked away, more or less, because he might be violent. And he -"

"Wait, _if_ he returned?" she interrupted. "They didn't know he was alive? And people took that shit seriously?"

"No, we didn't know. The family really thought he was dead. Funeral plans and everything. I can't explain it either. And people took him seriously because that's just how the organization works. It's ... unique. But the point is the old man was right. Nathan showed up out of nowhere that night, and they were waiting to take him away. The next day a couple people realized they'd had similar dreams. They told Prescott and that set off this whole big thing. He got everyone together, a dozen or so suits all in the same room sharing dreams. It was surreal. Turns out there were a lot of similarities. Nobody's sure what exactly they are. Possibilities, probably. Things that might have happened but didn't, or things that could eventually happen but might not. _Hypotheticals_ , we started calling them. You don't seem that surprised by this."

Chloe looked up to notice him watching her in the mirror. They had it wrong, but she wasn't about to correct him. "We got some of those too," she said with a faint shrug.

"Makes sense, I guess," he said thoughtfully. "Anyway, a few of us dreamed about Maxine. Max, sorry. She was ..." He trailed off, as if he was unsure how to continue.

"I swear to fucking god, if you stop there ..." She leaned forwards, gripping Max's hand tighter.

"They were ... _we_ were keeping her somewhere. Interrogating her, was the consensus. So it made sense to us that she had to be the one we were looking for. With Nathan dead, they _really_ wanted to find her. Just as much now, even though he's back. He's kind of nuts." Chloe heard him swallow nervously. "Uh, what can she do, exactly?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," she answered, stone-faced as she flopped back against the seat. Visions of the two of them on the run filled her head, dark suits trailing behind them every step of the way. Cracks began to spiderweb through the odd and placid apathy she'd felt since meeting this strange man. "They're gonna keep looking, aren't they?"

"They're not that close yet, but yeah. It's just a matter of time before they work out who she is. They have people out searching, and they're going through old yearbooks, things like that, trying to put a name to the face. Finding somebody is tough when all you have is a memory of what they looked like. It might take -"

"Wait. Shut up," she cut him off as she grasped his meaning. "How could they not know who she is? _You_ know."

"Because I didn't tell them," he said. "Everyone else seemed like they only got vague impressions, but I dreamed about actually sitting down to talk to her. And ... other things. I already had an inkling that I was working for bad people, but if the hypotheticals _are_ in fact what we think they are, there's no doubt anymore. _That's_ why I'm helping you. I can't stand the idea that I could do what I dreamed about. I don't think I'd ever agree to it, but I could see myself folding if they forced me. Either way it's not going to happen."

Chloe pictured Max that afternoon in their space outside of time, face twisted in angry disbelief as she described her other self's reality. ' _He reminded me of my dad a little, but younger - a beard and flannel kinda look_ ,' she had said of her captor. Things fell into place all at once.

"It was _you_ ," she breathed in shock, her tranquility cracking even further. "Not the government. You were one of those fucks in Max's cell. The ones who did the dream thing."

"I don't know why I'm surprised that she dreamed about it too." He shook his head slowly. "It's something we talked about and even tested a couple times, but everyone agreed it was going too far. It's invasive. Traumatic. Just cruel, really. It's hard to believe they'd actually try it for real, but with Nathan the way he is maybe they'd be desperate enough to -"

"Shut up," she said again, needing a moment to collect herself. There had been more to Max's story, she remembered. He had fiddled around with her thoughts somehow, constructed some sort of trust out of nothing. The other shoe dropped. "What the _fuck_ did you do to me?"

"I didn't -"

"Bullshit!" Chloe yelled, leaning forward and gesturing sharply. "I went from thinking about _shoot_ _ing_ you to getting into your car in like two fucking seconds. Tell me what you fucking did, asshole!"

"I'm just trying to help," he said softly. There was something tired in his voice, like he was giving up.

An almost painful disinterest pushed her back into her seat, lethargy descending from nowhere.

"Whatever," she muttered as she turned her head to gaze out the window, bored beyond belief. "Can I smoke in here?"

"Fuck it," Marty said after a few seconds as he reached for his own pack on the dashboard. "Go ahead. It's a company car and I'm not supposed to, but I haven't exactly been a model employee tonight."

Chloe cracked her window and lit up, not caring enough to notice if he kept talking. The streetlights were regular along the highway, and she watched the recurring shadows they cast inside the car as she smoked. After a few minutes she tossed the butt out the window and settled back, mind comfortably blank. Letting her eyes close, she eventually dozed into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Chloe," a voice woke her, gently and very close. _Max_ , she thought, a smile forming before her eyes had fully opened. Blinking sleepily, she raised her head to find it had been resting on a familiar shoulder. Eyes caught hers, shining above a happy smile. Max must have moved while Chloe slept, buckling herself into the middle seat.

"Hey," Chloe said. She felt not quite present, dull and a little slurry in the way of waking up from a too-long nap. The car had stopped moving, she noticed.

"Hey," Max replied, a strange smile still wide across her face. The stare she fixed on Chloe was tinged with something that bordered on fascination. "We're here."

"Oh," she acknowledged, beginning to fumble at her seat belt. After a few seconds, she managed to push herself upright to stand on the blacktop outside the car. Sunrise was still far off, and the early morning chill brought some life back into her thoughts. They were in the motel parking lot, she realized belatedly. The door shut with a muted thump as Max stepped out after her. She immediately stretched up on her toes to plant a kiss on Chloe's lips before wrapping her up tightly.

"Uh," Chloe said, returning the hug. "Not even close to complaining, but are you okay? You seem a little ..."

"Mmm," came the response, hummed into her shoulder in a way she knew meant ' _I'm fantastic_ '. Max released her and stood back. The smile had yet to fade. "It's just _so_ good to see you. I didn't know what was real, before. Which reality I came from, I mean. I was _sure_ I was gonna wake up at Blackwell, or be locked up in that cell. Seeing you is such a relief. I almost can't believe it."

"At Victoria's earlier, when I was waking up from whatever that shit was, I thought I was the other me," Chloe said. "Like, one hundred percent totally fucking believed it. I had her memories and everything. Is that how it is for you?"

"Pretty much, yeah. But this was different. Bigger. It was like ..." she paused, the smile finally replaced by a thoughtful purse of her lips. "Billy Pilgrim."

"Who?" Chloe asked. Confusion reigned for the second it took sophomore English class to catch up with her. "Like from the book?"

" _Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time_ ," Max quoted, nodding. "I remembered so many things. Relived them, almost, like floating from memory to memory, re-experiencing it all. Us as kids, me in Seattle. Other things, too, random almost, from the all the timelines. I'm not sure, but I think I remember everything, now. From all the different realities. All the little differences, all the way back to 2008."

"Holy shit," Chloe exclaimed softly, trying to imagine how it must feel to have all of that inside your head. It had been hard enough coming to terms with the few conflicting memories she'd gotten from the other version of herself. The sound of a car engine cut her thoughts short, and she turned in surprise to watch Marty drive his car out of the parking lot and away into the night. She had completely forgotten about him.

Dread coiled around her insides, shocking her awake like ice water. She had completely forgotten about _everything_. Sensing something amiss, Max placed a steadying hand on her arm.

"It's gonna be okay," she reassured her.

"How?" Chloe asked, not liking the panicky pitch to her voice. "Did he tell you what's going on? There are people out to get you, and they _know who I am._ What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out, okay? Together." Max's eyes were sincere in the moonlight. "They don't know who _I_ am yet, or that you're even connected to me. So we have time. Marty said -"

"Can we trust that asshole? You recognized him, right? He _did something_ , the same thing he did to the other you. Like made me fucking _like_ him somehow." She remembered the sudden burst of light in Victoria's den that had sent her spinning across timelines. "And fuck, Max, Nathan too! _You're_ _not the only one!_ "

"I know," Max said. Chloe saw her forehead crease in worry, but her voice stayed calm and slow. "But Marty's okay, I think. I don't know if he's a bad person with a guilty conscience or a good one who got stuck with bad people, but I don't think it matters. He _helped_ us. He didn't have to, and I get the feeling it was a big risk."

Chloe frowned but nodded begrudgingly. "So what now?"

"He said that when Prescott figures out who I am they might try to go after my parents to find me. We need to convince them to leave, like we did for Joyce and William. After that, I don't know." Chloe's heart lurched at the mention of parents. That wasn't something she'd realized she needed to be concerned about. It must have shown on her face, because Max quickly continued. "He was pretty sure we don't need to worry about Joyce. I asked. They have no idea how important you are to me, and no reason to want her."

It made sense, but she still hated it. "Okay," she tried to push aside her fear and focus. Max's parents were the important thing right now. She could worry about her mom later. "So ... transportation. Could you do your car thief thing again? You could be home in like literally seconds."

"That won't work if you're with me," Max pointed out. "And you're coming with me."

"Max, we have no idea how much time we have. We can't fuck around. If you think you can do it, you probably should. You can be back here in like a half hour if you really lay it on thick with your parents."

" _No_ ," she insisted, surprising Chloe with her vehemence. "I am _not_ leaving you. It'd be quick for you but hours and hours for me, if I could even keep it together. It _hurt_ , Chloe." Her face softened and she stepped a little closer. "I need you with me, okay? And we have to drive somewhere anyway, so we might as well just find a car and go to Seattle."

"Alright," Chloe said, seeing her point. "Grand theft auto it is, then. I guess if a few hours makes a huge difference we're pretty screwed anyway. But I'm not sure it would have been quick for me. That rewind at Victoria's? I remember most of it. It's ... weird."

Something about that made Max smile. "Good. It always felt wrong, taking away your memories like that." She held out a hand and nodded towards their room. "We should pack."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed as their fingers linked. "Let's be quick."

 

* * *

 

The sun had seemed to rise all at once, the crystal clear and suddenly blue morning giving Chloe a welcome second wind. It was impossible to doze off through the constantly nagging worry, but she had definitely felt the weight of fatigue pulling her down into the Accord's seat ever since they left the gas station in Franklin.

She couldn't help but feel bad for the man whose Honda they had stolen. A dark blue model around ten years old, it was about as unremarkable as a car could get. The NPR presets on the radio and the Simon & Garfunkel CD collection matched what Chloe had seen of their victim before Max rewound holding his keys. Graying and quietly polite to the cashier, she guessed he was probably somebody completely non-offensive, like an English professor or a Unitarian minister.

 _'We'll make sure he gets it back,'_ Max had rationalized as she hurriedly hopped into the passenger seat, setting the man's backpack gently outside on the pavement. _'Like leave it somewhere obvious, or maybe even call somebody.'_

It was surprising how little remorse Max showed for stranding this stranger at a gas station in the early morning darkness. Chloe couldn't deny that it was necessary, but she had expected more hand-wringing and guilty looks - it just wasn't in Max's nature to treat somebody like this. Something had changed with her, Chloe realized. A quiet determination hinted that she would be willing to do anything to keep them safe.

It wasn't surprising to find she once again remembered the rewind. Every moment was perfectly clear, all the way up until Max swiped the man's keys off the counter and turned back time. They weren't sure what was different now. Maybe it was Chloe's constant closeness to Max, they guessed, or something the storm had brought on, or maybe even something to do with Nathan and the Prescotts. They couldn't be sure about anything that had happened to them, and their speculation eventually dwindled to a nervous silence.

The rising sun brought with it a sudden pang of hunger, and they had gotten off the highway in the outskirts of Olympia, pulling into a little shopping center that advertised Washington's best coffee. It was the middle of the morning rush, but Chloe savored the time they spent standing in line. They had been cooped up in cars all night, and getting a chance to stretch out her cramped legs felt fantastic.

"After you," she said as she held the door open for Max. A bag of muffins swung in her hand as she gestured and gave a little bow. She knew she was trying too hard to force a normality they didn't feel, but that was infinitely preferable to letting their fears drag them down.

Stepping past her into the sunlight with a coffee in each hand, Max grinned and rolled her eyes. They slowly made their way to their stolen Honda, dodging cars in the crowded parking lot. Neither of them seemed particularly excited to get back on the road. Max sighed loudly and kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering up ahead of them. Chloe shot her a questioning glance.

"Just thinking about Mom and Dad," she explained quietly, her voice tired. "I really don't want to tell them. I wish there was another way."

"Dude, they're your parents," Chloe reassured her. "They'll love you no matter what."

"I know, but this is gonna change everything. They'll never look at me the same way again."

"Of course they will. You're still their awesome daughter." Chloe put an arm around her shoulders, careful of the cups Max carried. "You're an amazing person, Max. Like actually my favorite. And I know your parents feel the same way. This doesn't change that at all."

Max sighed again, but smiled through it. "Thanks. I hope you're right."

Chloe plopped herself down in the driver's seat with a resigned groan, tossing the muffin bag onto the dash. She leaned over to open the door for Max and the coffees before putting the key in the ignition. The automatic transmission still felt foreign to her, and her left foot instinctively spasmed against the floorboards looking for the clutch as she started the engine.

"Hey," she said, looking over to where Max still stood at the open door. "You coming?"

The coffee cups dropped without warning, one caroming off the seat to send an arcing spray of dark liquid across Max's jeans. Ignoring it, she clambered inside and slammed the door. Her eyes were wild in a terrifyingly unfamiliar way that threatened to stop Chloe's heart. She launched herself across the seat, almost violent in her embrace.

"Max?" she asked weakly, too shocked to say anything else. She could feel Max's entire body trembling against her. _This is_ not _what I think it is_ , she told herself, refusing to believe. _We didn't take a picture._

After a few moments Chloe felt the shaking subside. Holding her by the shoulders, Max pulled back to meet her gaze. Her lip quivered and her eyes welled with tears.

"Chloe," she said, her voice cracking. "I really need you to trust me right now."

"Always," Chloe told her, drowning in uncertainty but not willing to say anything else.

There came a tapping at the window behind Chloe's head, something solid against the glass. Max's eyes flicked upwards and she threw them into a rewind. When the dizziness passed, the engine was silent and Max once again stood just outside the car. Chloe absently wondered at the strangeness of that as she watched Max drop the cups to the pavement and sit down, pulling the door shut after her.

"Somebody just took a picture," she explained hoarsely, waving a hand vaguely at the parking lot outside the windshield, "and sent it to one of Prescott's people. Asking which one of us they want."

"How did they find us?" Chloe wanted to know. She was barely keeping her head above water, questions swirling through the roiling fear. "Wait, you used _their_ picture?"

"It doesn't matter," Max replied, taking a deep breath. "Everything is about to go _so_ wrong, and you _need_ to listen to me, okay?"

"I died?" That was the only possibility that made sense.

She nodded soberly. The tears started again but her voice stayed strong. "We tried to get away, but they got lucky. Tasers and drugs before I could fix it."

"Fuck!" Chloe swore, sick to her stomach. Confidence was out of her reach but she tried to fake it anyway. "Okay, we know they're here this time. What do we do?"

"Whatever happens ..." Max began. She shut her eyes for a second before continuing. "Whatever happens, I need you to stay in the car. Don't go for the gun and don't get out."

Understanding dawned the same second the tapping came again at the window. She turned her head this time, finding the barrel of a pistol inches from her eyes. A muffled voice began to speak before Max took them back.

" _No!_ " Chloe said as Max sat down. "Max, there is no fucking way I'm letting you do this!"

"I have to," she said simply. Her face was a mask of conviction. "It's the only way I know _for sure_ that you'll survive. They don't care about you. If they have me, there's no reason for them to -"

"Fuck this," Chloe spat. She started the car and moved to put it in gear before the dizziness hit, sending her back a few seconds in time.

" _Please,_ " Max begged, grabbing both of her hands before she could go for the key. "It'll be exactly the same as last time, except you'll be _alive_."

"There has to be another way," she insisted. The urge to shake off Max's hands and start the car again was nearly overwhelming.

"We can't risk it. I _need_ to be sure. If we get it wrong again there might not be another chance to fix it."

Chloe stared at her and squeezed her hands tighter, for the first time feeling the tears on her cheeks. Neither of them acknowledged the sound of the gun against the glass or the rewind that followed. Max took her hands again as she sat down.

"This is the only way," she said quietly.

Chloe shook her head slowly, wanting to reject that idea outright. She opened her mouth to argue, but Max cut her short with a kiss that lingered. She fell into it, let it wash over her.

"I love you," Max said, finally pulling away to bury her face in her shoulder.

"I love you too," Chloe replied as her arms came up to encircle her.

When the tapping sounded again, Max sat back and smiled sadly.

"I'll see you soon," she whispered. She rewound.

The door swung closed with Max on the wrong side of it. After a shocked second, Chloe shoved her door open and stood. She caught a brief glimpse of Max over the roof of the car before the rewind swept her back inside.

"Max!" she yelled, her voice breaking as she fumbled at the door handle. "Let me out of this fucking car!"

She wasn't sure how many times she tried, but she wasn't able to even get the door open again. Rewinds slammed her back into her seat as she screamed and shouted her voice raw. Eventually she surrendered, resigned to the inevitable, and followed Max with tear-filled eyes as she walked towards a small group of people, her hands in the air. One of them flashed a badge at curious onlookers, shooing them back, while the others held their weapons drawn. A woman walked forward cautiously, drawing a syringe out of a zippered black case.

Unable to bear watching, she started the car with a shaky hand and drove off the lot, not noticing or caring which way she was headed.


	8. All Who Wander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry to anybody that was following along - I know that was the worst possible place to have to take a break. I can't promise that it won't happen again (even though I really, really hope it doesn't), but I'll gladly swear by any thing, being, or deity you like that this story will not end before it's finished. You have my solemn vow.

Awareness that she was driving arrived slowly and by degrees. Details floated piecemeal to the surface, taking ages to sink in. The hum of the engine, the seat belt tight across her chest, the pressure of the gas pedal against her foot. It was a gradual return to a reality Chloe was pretty sure she didn't want to be in. She sniffed messily and wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.

The fringes of the city spread out around her. Homes had begun to give way to warehouses and car dealerships, and morning sunlight glinted sharply off the windshields of oncoming cars. In the rear view mirror she could see a station wagon riding impatiently against her bumper. An SUV followed slightly behind, keeping itself at a more polite distance. She glanced blankly at the speedometer as she put her foot down. There was no way to know what the speed limit was, but she guessed it probably wasn't thirty.

"What the _fuck_ am I supposed to do now, Max?" she wondered hoarsely, slamming her fist hard against the steering wheel. The answering thrum of pain stirred the anger that had been gathering just under the surface. Swearing softly, she encouraged the feeling as she shook her throbbing hand. The familiarity was welcome even if it wasn't exactly comforting. Anger felt better somehow, more useful than the misery of the blind drive away from the coffee shop. Max had come back from the future - the least she could have done was give her some sort of hint about what came next. Or even let them get taken together. Anything but leave her alone with no idea how to make things right. ' _See you soon_ ,' she had said. What the fuck did that even mean?

She let out a frustrated breath and dug in her jacket for a cigarette. The need to do _something_ was suddenly overpowering. She had no idea what that something was, but anything would be better than driving aimlessly and letting worry burn out her insides. Going to the cops was out of the question - at least one of the assholes that stole Max had waved his badge around. Victoria's offer of help briefly flickered out of her memory, but she dismissed it almost as quickly. Somebody had to be to blame for this, and Chloe's fingers were already pointing at everyone, Victoria included.

Her body acted before she realized she had made a choice, braking sharply and taking a hasty u-turn through a gas station. _The coffee shop_ , she thought as she blew by the pumps and bounced back onto the road, joining the morning traffic headed into the city. It hadn't been long, maybe there was still something there to see. Or somebody to follow. She sucked anxiously at her cigarette, trying to think of anything other than what might be happening to Max right now. The tears were threatening to punch their way back out, and she was not going to let herself surrender to them.

A startled yell escaped her as the bottom seemed to drop out of her seat. Reality quivered around her while she clung tightly to the wheel, struggling to keep the car pointed in the right direction. Recognition came when rumbling noise and soft brightness washed over her, and after a moment she heard ghostly voices replaying a familiar scene - Tuesday afternoon in another world, a father taking a snapshot of his daughter and her best friend.

Max's camera fell from Chloe's fingers as the flash died away, leaving bright spots flitting across her vision. There was pressure against her side, warm and soft, and the smell of Max's shampoo made her heart race in wild hope. Blinking her eyes clear, she looked down to find a vaguely girl-shaped shimmer next to her on the motel bed. It wavered alarmingly until, with a faint prickle like static against her skin, it vanished completely.

She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head thud back against the headboard. Of course she wouldn't be allowed to see her. She was Chloe Price - why should she ever expect a single fucking break? A tear forced its way out, and she felt it trace an odd path down to her jawline.

 _Max is alive_ , she reminded herself forcefully. _They only drugged her. That_ has _to be why she's not here. They want her for something, they wouldn't kill her.  
_

The bed shook and her eyes sprang open. The other Max was settling her weight on the edge of the mattress, every part of her radiating concern. With a strange and involuntary noise, Chloe reached out to gather her up with desperate arms. She knew this wasn't actually _her_ Max, but that didn't matter at all right now. Right now she was just _Max_.

She tried to form words, to say something about the madness of the past few hours, but her throat was shut so tightly that she could barely choke out soft whispers. Breath hitching, she steadied herself to try again before Max stopped her.

"Shh," she said calmly as a gentle hand stroked circles on Chloe's back. She quieted and burrowed deeper into the comforting warmth. There was a long silence as she swallowed back tears, willing them gone. Giving in to them felt too much like giving up, and that was a deeply terrifying thought.

"I am so fucking mad at you right now," she whispered after her voice had returned. The hand stopped moving against her back, and Chloe pulled away to see confused eyes regarding her. "Sorry. Not _you_ you. I know you're not really the same person."

"Um, we kind of are. Probably more than you think." There was a curious inflection to her words. Hesitant, like she was profoundly uncertain about something major. Her eyes settled briefly on the empty space on the bed before snapping back to Chloe. "I woke up in the middle of the night, and I ... knew more than I should. About your reality. A lot more. And then a little bit ago I felt something ... weird. So I used the picture to bring you here."

"Me too," came a soft voice, equally and uncharacteristically timid. Chloe looked over to where her double lay. A fragment of Uncle Aaron's living room, suspended in an unsettling expanse of blackness. Their eyes met, and she could feel the worry they shared like something tangible hanging between them. "The middle of the night thing, I mean. Not whatever happened this morning. I remember bits and pieces. Like that big house, and Nathan. Max got more. We talked about it, but we still don't ..." She stopped as if realizing she was rambling. There was an audible swallow. "What happened? Is she ..?"

 _'Dead?'_ was the unspoken conclusion to that question. Chloe shook her head as impatience flared, sudden and striking. The thought of explaining everything turned her stomach. She needed to be out looking for Max, not reliving that fucking nightmare of a night.

"Drugged," she mumbled angrily, remembering the woman with the wicked looking syringe.

"It's okay," Max said after a short pause, easily picking up her anxiety. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but we have time. Nothing's happening out there. It's just us."

"Maybe we can help," the other Chloe added quietly, her voice careful like she knew exactly what Chloe was feeling.

With a deep but shaky breath, she nodded and pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. They were right - the outside world was frozen in place, completely powerless to move until they chose to let it. She plodded across to the other room and sank heavily onto the couch. Max followed her, settling in close by her side.

Chloe was still, elbows on knees and eyes fixed on her hands as she tried to pull her head together. The ring stared back at her from her finger, and she found herself playing with it, twisting it back and forth as Max had done just the other day on this same couch. It was comforting to realize that Max had it with her out in the real world.

"How much do you already know?" she asked flatly, breaking the silence. The harshness in her voice made her wince, but the other two seemed not to care. She straightened up and tried to make herself relax.

"Most of it, we think," Max replied. "At least up until Nathan ... uh, exploded."

"Something woke me up last night," Chloe's double explained. Her gaze was probing, focused on Chloe like she was waiting for something. "I didn't know what it was, at first. I thought it was -"

"Thunder," Chloe finished for her, not missing the answering nod. "Then you thought it was a nightmare, and you tried to wake Max up but you couldn't."

"Yeah," she answered, still nodding. "I _knew_ I felt strange. Different. I felt like _you_."

"I was there. Whatever Nathan did, it knocked me out for a second and I thought I was you. I don't fucking know, maybe I _was_ somehow. God, I am so fucking _sick_ of this shit." She paused and shut her eyes for a second. Her voice was veering towards an embarrassing whine, brimming with frustration. The muscles in her forearms protested vaguely as she forced her fists to unclench. "It happened to Max too. She was out for like an hour, and when she woke up she said she remembered everything. Like actually _everything_. From all the timelines. Did you ..?"

"Nothing like that." Max replied, already shaking her head. "Chloe woke me up yelling, and I felt like I had one of those dreams that hang around for a little bit after you wake up, you know? But it got stronger instead of going away. After a while we realized I was remembering your reality."

"Just ours?" Chloe asked, surprised once again that this Max wasn't sensing any of the other worlds. That still made no sense to her.

"Just yours. All the way through last night - talking to Victoria, seeing Nathan, rewinding those people away. Then that light, or whatever it was. It stops there."

"That's pretty much it." She leaned back and stared up at the emptiness where the ceiling should have been. "We ran after that, and ... they found us." Summoning the energy to tell it for real suddenly felt like a colossal task.

"Prescott's people, right?" her double prodded cautiously. "We figured it must've been them that Max rewound away."

Chloe raised her head to meet the other girls' eyes. Their faces said they were desperate to understand, but she knew they would never push if she decided that now wasn't the time. She nodded weakly, and with a full-body sigh started properly, going back to Victoria's den and the mental chaos of waking up from being someone else.

It took time to get going, but once it did the story poured out of her like a thing alive. She hadn't realized just how much she had needed to talk it through, to set straight the jumbled mess in her head. She and Max had missed their chance out in the real world. The drive away from the motel had been quieted by nerves and exhaustion, but the assumption that they would have time later had made that feel okay. It felt good to get it out, to have them listening as she worked things through.

The ending was a struggle. Those awful minutes at the coffee shop were far too close to be touched without burning herself, but Max stayed with her, patient through the pauses as Chloe grappled with a failing voice. Even through swimming eyes, it was hard to miss Max's reaction to the photo jump. Her frown deepened, and emotions played out across her face for seconds after Chloe had finished speaking.

"You remember," Chloe guessed quietly, too drained for any real surprise. It was easy to recognize the recognition.

"No. Maybe. Kind of." Max huffed in annoyance, her brow scrunched up tightly. "It's _right there_ , like I should be able to, but it's so hard. All I can remember is feeling relieved. To see you, probably, or maybe that everything was finally happening. And that I made the reset work."

"Reset?" It took a moment for Chloe to catch on. "You mean the rewinds? When you ended up back outside the car?"

"Yeah. I think it was because I knew people would be watching us and I didn't want them to see me teleport, or whatever, like when I rewind normally. I knew I was gonna let them take me, and I didn't want them to know _anything_ about what I could do. Like maybe they saw me do it the first time, or something, and it made things worse."

"How did you know how to do that?" Chloe knew she had reset everything once before, that first day in the Blackwell bathroom, but they hadn't ever thought of it as anything more than a curiosity.

Max just shrugged, blue eyes wide and a little stunned.

"You planned it out." The other Chloe's voice seemed to startle both of them, and they turned to find her staring intently from the bed. "You must've _learned_ how to rewind like that. Figured it out, taught yourself somehow. God, Max, how long did they have you? How long did it take?"

Chloe felt the impact of that thought as it ricocheted through the silence. That same question had occurred to her the second before her double spoke it, and she could see her own dismay mirrored by the girl in the bed. Max shrugged again, chewing on her bottom lip as the question hung in the air. Long looks passed between them.

"Okay," the other Chloe finally ventured, voice pitched in an obvious attempt to change gears. "So what do we know about the Prescotts and these other people? There's that Marty guy, and Nathan is obviously -"

"I can't do this right now," Chloe cut her off and straightened up on the couch, suddenly unable to remain still. It was terrible enough to know that some other Max in some other world had been taken and locked away, but the idea that _her_ Max was on the way to the same fate was almost unbearable. There was no way she could lounge around talking anymore. "Sorry. I know we have time, but I can't just fucking _sit_ here when Max is out there. I need to _do_ something."

"It's okay," her double replied. "We get it. If there was anything I could do, I wouldn't want to stay here either."

"You got my memories, right?" Chloe asked her. "Like you did the other times? So you know as much as I do. You guys can figure this shit out while I go find her. I was on my way back to the coffee place when you used the picture. I'm thinking there could still be something there. Like somebody to follow, or something."

"Wait, you're driving right now?" Max asked, pursing her lips in worry.

"Yeah. Or maybe crashing, I guess. That photo thing is some serious shit." Max frowned at her half-assed joke, but Chloe's thoughts had already moved on. Fear and uncertainty were starting to press in around her, almost suffocating. Everything seemed suddenly futile. What could she possibly do against people like this? "There's _gotta_ be something still there, right? If there isn't, then I don't know what else -"

"Sullivan," the other Chloe interrupted. Heads turned to regard her curiously. "You didn't mention it, but that's what Marty called himself on the phone when he called up to the house. He said Sully, but whatever. That's probably short for Sullivan, right? And we know he's from Portland or Arcadia Bay. We can find out who he is while you check the coffee shop. He helped before, maybe he would again."

It made no sense that he would have been the one to give them up, but Chloe was still far too angry about his bullshit mind-tricks to ever picture herself trusting him. At this point, though, any hint would be welcome no matter the source. If she did find him willing to help, she could work out how to deal with it later. And even if he refused, there had to be information she could get out of him. Like where they were taking Max. A small hope flickered inside of her, faint but definitely alive.

"It's gonna be okay," Max said quietly, giving her hand a squeeze. The sincerity was obvious, but Chloe could see a hint of the doubt she was trying to hide.

In a strange way the support was almost surprising. She had half been expecting them to tell her to wait, or maybe even try to talk her out of these vague plans she had to search for Max. They could see just as easily as she could that her chances were terrible, the consequences of failure very possibly final. But all at once it was clear to her that they understood completely. That rescuing Max was far more important to her than staying safe. That there was nothing to be said to change her mind.

"Chloe?" Her double fixed her with a steady look, and she could feel the weight behind her words. "I know you. Don't get carried away and go charging in headfirst. If anything feels wrong, just fucking _run_. You can't help her if they catch you. Or kill you."

She nodded, trying to suppress a flicker of irritation. Whatever smart-ass quip she had been about to make dissolved as she realized what would happen if she let herself get out of control. Max locked in that cell, forced to try to escape again, to try to make a brand new timeline to fix yet another Chloe Price fuckup. She swallowed heavily, her nod a thousand times more sincere.

"Is a half an hour enough time?" Max piped up from her side. "That would be like eight-thirty. We should plan it so you can pull over for the photo. I don't want you to crash."

Chloe smiled faintly despite her nerves. That was such a Max thing to worry about. She turned and pulled her friend into a fierce hug, eliciting a little squeak of shock that she would have found cute under any other circumstance.

"Yeah," Chloe said around a sudden lump in her throat. She knew this was a different Max, but right now it definitely didn't feel like it. "I'm really glad you're here."

Max squeezed hard before pulling away to meet her eyes. "Be careful, okay?" she said softly, the fear plain on her face.

"When am I not?" Chloe asked, and on impulse leaned forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. A little smile touched Max's lips as the world began to fade.

Her consciousness fell back into the driver's seat just in time to feel the steering wheel jerk in her hands as a tire rebounded off the curb. She swerved instinctively and the car shimmied back into its lane. It wasn't a particularly close call, but she could feel her heart thumping hard against her chest. If she had drifted the other way, that curb could easily have been another car. Max was right, apparently, just like she usually was.

Her earlier hunger had somehow gone unnoticed, but now it howled for attention as she caught her breath. Tossing her still smoldering cigarette, she tore into the paper bag on the dashboard, barely tasting the blueberry muffin as she began devouring it with huge bites. Chewing and crumb-covered, she looked around carefully, belatedly realizing that if any cops were around to witness that odd swerve, she was undoubtedly about to be pulled over while driving a stolen car.

Satisfied that nobody cared, she was about to return to her muffin when something caught her eye. Her jaw stopped moving as she stared into the rear view mirror, attention riveted to an SUV a half dozen cars back. A black Ford, it was identical to the one she had noticed behind her before making the u-turn moments ago. The muffin seemed to have formed a concrete mass in her throat, and she swallowed it with difficulty while she deposited the remains of her breakfast onto the passenger seat.

She put her blinker on and eased into the right-turn lane as the car rolled to a stop at the next traffic light. With a sinking feeling, she watched it do the same, pulling up only three cars behind. The glare off its windshield made it impossible to see inside, but she was sure she felt eyes trying to pierce the back of her skull.

 _Don't freak out yet_ , she told herself, only somewhat successfully. _It could still be a coincidence_. Had she seen black SUVs at the coffee shop? Maybe. She wasn't sure.

When the light changed, she muscled her way back into the center lane, prompting the annoyed braying of car horns. She hardly noticed, too intent on watching the SUV in the mirror, desperately hoping it wouldn't follow suit.

It did. She turned back to the road, stomping at the slippery fear that had begun to worm its way into her. She itched to slam her foot down on the accelerator and take off running, and it took every shred of restraint she had to hold back the panic and drive coolly forward. What she needed was a plan, the calm part of herself whispered, some way to get out of sight.

She approached the next light slowly, coasting to a stop before yellow flicked over to red. The SUV idled ominously a few cars back as they waited. Threatening, like it was waiting for her to try something. As the cross-traffic died down, she began to nose out into the intersection, eyeing the stoplight as if it were a starting gun.

On the first hint of green she floored it, cutting left in front of two lanes of oncoming traffic. Tires squealed and she let loose a strangled yell as she came within inches of clipping another car. She caught a flash of shocked faces and then she was past, fishtailing into the side street.

Her heart raced as she tried to pull the car back under control without slowing down - at best there was only a handful of seconds before the way cleared enough for the SUV to follow. She had no clue where she was or where she was going, but she dismissed that thought for now, focusing hard on the right turn coming up ahead.

She hit it at speed, brushing the apex of the corner and skidding wide into the other lane. She took an immediate left, followed by several more breakneck turns through sleepy neighborhoods. It wasn't until she stumbled onto another main road that she was forced to slow down. She merged into traffic, breathing heavily and checking her mirrors obsessively. There was no sign of the black SUV, but she was miles away from feeling safe.

How stupid had she been to think she would be free to just wander back to the scene? Or anywhere, for that matter? _Of course_ they had somebody on her - she was the absolute definition of a loose end. The more she thought about it, the stranger it was that she had even been allowed to leave in the first place. Had Max said something, maybe tried to cut a deal? Or had they just been totally unprepared for her to take off like that?

It didn't matter, she decided. There were more immediate concerns to deal with, like getting the fuck off the road as soon as possible. Both the police and Prescott's goons were probably looking for this Honda, and the Oregon plates were an obvious giveaway. She felt horribly exposed, certain that every person in every car was eyeing her suspiciously. Her palms were damp against the wheel and nausea churned steadily in her stomach.

When a Walmart sign appeared after a gentle bend in the road, she cut the wheel hard and swerved into the entrance without a second thought. One eye trained on the street behind her, she sped through the parking lot, blowing by the building and continuing around back towards the loading docks. She hit the brakes with a lurch, then backed up carefully into the weeds at the edge of the pavement, tucking the car away behind a dark green dumpster.

The silence after she killed the engine was jarring. Her labored breathing seemed to echo in the small car, cutting through the rushing of blood in her ears. She had absolutely no idea what to do next, she realized with a stab of panic. Instincts begged for her to get out and keep running, but fear was keeping her frozen, rooted to her seat with indecision.

 _Relax_ , she told herself forcefully, rubbing her face roughly with both hands. The thought was unmistakably hers, but her double's face came to mind, stoic and reassuring. _Think. What do you need? What do they know?_

She tried to calm herself and focus through the haze. There was no way to know where she was headed until she got the details on Marty Sullivan, but Portland and Arcadia Bay were both safe bets, and leaving immediately felt absolutely imperative. The bus station was a possibility, but a definite last resort. It seemed too obvious - there was no way they wouldn't be watching it. The plates would need to go if she was going to keep the Honda, though. She had driven by a small group of cars at the side of the building, she remembered. Employee parking, maybe? Could she pinch a set without getting caught?

Either way, she'd have to go inside for a few things. They had her picture - blue hair, beanie, leather jacket - and her look was way too distinctive. She felt herself nodding slowly as a plan formed, the panic beginning to ebb. There was an old hoodie in the duffel on the back seat. That would work for now, she thought as she stretched out and hauled the bag forward.

She wriggled into the ratty black sweatshirt and stepped out of the car, peering carefully around the edge of the dumpster and squinting against the still brilliant morning sun. Nobody seemed to be in sight. Pulling the hood up to hide the hair dye, she began what she hoped was a nonchalant walk around to the front of the store.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself kneeling behind the stolen Honda, hair tucked up into a Mariners baseball cap and eyes hidden behind a pair of dark aviators. A cigarette was clamped between her teeth, and she took a lazy drag as she drove the last screw home and stood, folding closed her brand new multi-tool. The new plates had been a cinch to snag. It had taken all of thirty seconds, despite her nerves and shaky hands. She hoped she was right in her guess that their owner worked here - that would give her a little time before they reported the plates stolen.

She tossed the old ones in the trunk before fishing a pair of stickers out of her hoodie pocket. One was the ubiquitous blue and white _Coexist_ , the other the Seattle Seahawks logo. She slapped them haphazardly on the bumper and stepped back to take a critical look. Maybe they weren't entirely necessary, but together with the Washington license plates they definitely helped strengthen the illusion that this was a different car.

She ground the cigarette out under her boot heel and plopped down into the seat. The clock read _8:23_. It was pointless to set off now - she would just need to pull over again in a few minutes. She settled back to wait for the freefall through the photo, impatient until she remembered the muffins on the passenger seat.

 

* * *

 

A tire bounced in a familiar rut as she rolled up the dirt drive of American Rust. Pine trees towered overhead, and lower to the ground autumn golds and reds caught the midday sun as branches swayed in a soft wind. Reluctance stole over her as she pushed onward into the junkyard, suddenly doubtful of her earlier certainty that she could handle being here. To her left she glimpsed a flash of fluorescent yellow - a leftover scrap of crime scene tape fluttering in the faint breeze. She looked away quickly, trying to tunnel-vision onto the dirt in front of the car. With nothing to do but listen to her brain invent horrible scenarios involving Max, the drive down from Olympia had been an ordeal. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of Rachel.

They had found nothing on the internet about Marty Sullivan except an aging white pages listing. The phone number had been disconnected, Chloe discovered, but the Arcadia Bay address was on a street she knew. Not far from Rachel's house in the fancy part of town, it wouldn't surprise her to find she recognized the place. She had probably driven by it dozens of times. This time, though, she would be trying to creep in from the back.

Paranoia had set in as she approached Arcadia Bay, growing to a point where driving this car around town in the open now seemed like a fatally idiotic idea. She did, however, know a path from their junkyard hideout to Rachel's neighborhood. They had taken it often enough, mostly before her truck was legal but also after, when they sometimes found themselves a little too fucked up to drive and had to stumble home arm in arm. A couple miles along the train tracks followed by a short stretch through the woods, it was a bit of a hike, but better than gambling her freedom on going unnoticed through town.

She came to a stop behind the derelict fishing boat and moved the gearshift forward into park. Eyes staying inside the car, she pulled Max's camera bag into her lap and began to rifle through it. It was all there - money, journal, photograph, the little box of Rachel's things. She closed it up and slid the entire bag carefully into Max's backpack alongside the laptop. It could be that she would be back here in a couple of hours, but there was no way to be sure. She didn't want to chance leaving anything important behind.

Stashing the revolver in the waistband of her jeans, she stood, rolled her shoulders to settle the backpack, and finally let herself surrender to the compulsion to look around. She was immediately struck by the same feeling she had always felt those few times she came here alone after Rachel disappeared, only magnified a thousand-fold. That everything looked exactly the same, but it fucking shouldn't. That this place was so different, so clearly broken without her that she couldn't understand how it wasn't obvious to see. She felt like a fire should have consumed it after Rachel was gone. That would have made sense.

Her feet carried her almost against her will to the cinder-block building, boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. She stopped at the door and peered inside. It might have been a trick of the light or the dark sunglasses looking into deep shade, but for a split second the room looked empty, with nothing but an upended gas can lying on the dirt floor. She blinked and the illusion vanished, posters and graffiti appearing where they had always been.

There was no way she was ever coming back here again after today, she decided as she turned away and began to trudge toward the tracks. She knew that one day the hundreds of amazing memories she had of this place might outweigh the single horrific one, but that day seemed unimaginably far away. Head down, she hiked quickly beside the train tracks, not wanting to waste any more time. She didn't know what she was expecting to find exactly, but the sooner she found it, the sooner she would find Max.

 

* * *

 

She straightened up slowly, knees popping as she came up from her crouch. It was hard to be sure from the woods across the street, but it looked like nobody had been home in a while. Downed branches still littered the lawn and small mounds of leaves had gathered in front of the garage doors. Apparently Marty hadn't come by to check on his house after all. If he even still lived here, that was. The address they had found could easily be an old one.

Tucking a stray strand of blue back underneath her baseball cap, she jogged briskly across the road, not slowing down until she reached the backyard. A two-tiered deck extended from the back of the house, painted with the same dark brown stain that colored the home's rough-cut siding. She took the steps to the upper level two at a time, then cupped her hands against one of the sliding glass doors to look inside. A microwave blinked steadily in a dim kitchen, its clock flashing quadruple zeroes. The granite counters were bare, no sign of dishes or food anywhere. She tried the door doubtfully, not at all surprised to find it locked.

Vertigo blasted her out of nowhere as she stepped back to look around for another way in. One arm shot out to steady herself, but her feet tangled in an odd way and her shin cracked painfully against something that shouldn't have been there. She was back on the deck steps, she saw as she leaned against the railing and caught her breath.

"Hey Max," she whispered, a smile beginning to form at the realization that she must have woken up. It faded quickly when it occurred to her to wonder what Max had needed to rewind. She turned and jogged back down the steps.

With a growing sense of urgency, she made a quick circuit of the house checking windows. Everything was sealed up tightly, but she was ninety percent sure she had spotted one latch that was flipped the wrong way. The window was at the back corner of the house, just above head-height and partially blocked by a thick evergreen bush.

Flicking open her multi-tool, she forced her way through the shrubbery, branches grasping greedily at her sweatshirt. The screen popped off easily, falling to the ground beside her with one edge badly bent. She had seen none of those alarm warning stickers on any of the windows, but the silence after she levered the window open still did wonders to slow her heart rate. She slipped off the backpack and sent it carefully ahead of her, letting it drop inside as gently as she could. Following after it, she narrowly missed the edge of a porcelain sink as she tumbled awkwardly to a tiled floor.

She emerged from the small bathroom and wandered slowly through the first floor checking doors, still not quite sure what she was looking for. The house was pristine but sparse, its high-end furniture somehow not quite enough to fill the space. A few black-and-white landscape prints were the only concessions to decoration. One door opened onto the familiar oily smell of a garage, and she grinned when the lights came on to reveal a black hard-top Jeep. She spotted the key hanging on a nail by the light switch and her grin widened.

"C'mon, dude. Do you _want_ me to steal your car?" she wondered out loud, then shut her eyes against a heavy wave of dizziness. Opening them again, she found herself standing just inside the bathroom door, maybe sixty seconds in the past. With a worried sigh, she set about searching the house for real.

Max continued to rewind as she ransacked the place, sending her stumbling back through time often and with no apparent pattern. The rewinds hammered at her morale, growing quickly from worrisome to seriously upsetting. Her imagination couldn't help but spin ever-worsening horror stories about Max in that cell, and the fact that she could do nothing at all about it was absolutely killing her. She had found a crowbar in the garage, and it was with a frustrated sort of rage that she attacked anything that even remotely resisted entry. As the minutes dragged on, she began to despair of ever finding anything useful. The house barely even seemed lived in. She saw no mail or magazines, no food in the fridge, no sheets on the bed.

The upstairs office was the only place left that was even somewhat promising, and she sat in the desk chair, surrounded by the splintered remains of formerly locked drawers. A misshapen computer tower lay on the floor nearby, case dented by a couple heavy blows from the crowbar. There had to be a trick for getting around its login, but Chloe had no idea what it might be. Searching for post-it notes or scrawled password hints had turned up nothing.

Cigarette smoke curled up past her ear as she leafed quickly through yet another folder full of papers. Marty seemed to keep a file for everything - insurance records, bank and investment documents, even car service history - but none of it related to his work or the Prescotts. The one thing she had finally managed to find was an envelope addressed to him at a Portland apartment, and that was now folded up safely in her back pocket. She reached the end of the folder and tossed it to the floor in frustration, stubbing her cigarette out on the desk.

Scowling, she stood and hoisted the backpack onto her shoulder. That had been the last file. She hadn't expected to find a folder labeled SECRET PRESCOTT PLANS _,_ but she had definitely hoped for something more. _Guess I'm going back to fucking Portland_ , she thought, booting the chair roughly out of her way as she headed out of the room. It spun across the floor and left a satisfying dent in the wall.

She walked quickly down the stairs to the Jeep, pausing only to snatch the key off the nail and slap the button to raise the garage door. It rumbled slowly upwards as she hopped into the driver's seat. The engine growled to life, and she backed out of the garage, leaf piles rustling underneath the wheels.

Another rewind assailed her and she slammed her eyes shut, knowing by now that that was the only thing that helped combat the awful spinning sensation. The world seemed to roil around her for ages, finally stabilizing as her toe grazed the ground and she sprawled out flat on rough asphalt. Her palms throbbed painfully as she pushed herself to her knees and looked around. She was in the middle of the street, the double yellow lines running right beneath her legs. Marty's house sat directly in front of her, garage doors closed and leaves undisturbed. _Fuck me, this is like a half an hour ago_ , she realized with a jolt, remembering her quick jog out of the woods.

"Holy _shit_ , Max," she mumbled as she picked up her sunglasses and stood, still slightly dazed. Blood oozed slowly from her scraped hands, but she ignored it and resumed her jog, aiming directly for the bathroom window.

Within minutes Chloe was back in the Jeep, envelope on the seat next to her, Portland address punched into her phone. Fear burned steadily as she pulled out of the driveway. Whatever it was that Max wanted a second try at, she desperately wished her luck.

 _I'm coming, Max,_ she thought, wishing she could hear. _I promise_.


	9. Divergence

The pull through the photo was distinct, different in so many ways from the swirling turbulence of the rewinds. Like a sudden plunge through soft whiteness, it took her even before she reached the stop sign at the end of Marty's street. Chloe's foot hastily found the brake pedal as Arcadia Bay began to waver around her, autumn leaves shimmering through the haze. The road was deserted this early on a Thursday afternoon, but she still guided the Jeep towards the shoulder through the rapidly fading reality, wondering why the other Max had decided to use the picture. _Max is awake_ _this time_ , she realized, feeling relief sweep aside some of the choking fear. She tried to give in and let the brightness take her, wishing for some way speed up her trip through the photo.

The flash blinded her the way it always did, and there was a sharp _click-whir_ as the camera spat out a photograph. Chloe began to turn, but Max was already on her. She felt soft touches all over, at her face and neck, arms and shoulders, as if Max needed reassurance that she was actually real. Senses were always strange for the first few seconds in this place, sounds washing together and echoing oddly, and it took a moment to notice that she was speaking.

"Oh my god, I was _right_ ," Chloe finally made out as Max's face swam into focus. The words were breathless and almost as shaky as the hand on her arm. "I _did_ do it. I didn't understand anything at first, but then I thought maybe I ... Are you okay? Where are you? Did they -?"

"Shut up about me, okay? I'm fine." Chloe squeezed her hard and close, trying to calm some of that awful trembling. "Holy shit, I am so happy to see you."

Max sniffled into her shoulder, nodding. "Me too. I thought you were dead. I didn't think I could change things back."

"God, Max. That had to be terrible." It hadn't occurred to her that she would have no memory of saving her again. Of letting herself get taken.

"Yeah. I woke up in that room, the same one from before, and the last thing I remembered was you getting shot. But then they started asking me a bunch of weird questions, like how I knew they were at the coffee shop and why I gave myself up, and I had no clue what was going on. I figured it out eventually, that I must have used a picture, but..." She pulled away suddenly and Chloe reluctantly let her go. Eyebrows bunched together in confusion, Max gave her a long stare before continuing quietly. "No, wait. That's not right. Why is everything all mixed together? This never happened before."

"What do you mean? Are you okay?" Chloe found a hand and drew it towards her. Soft and strained, something in Max's voice sparked an uneasiness she didn't like.

"I don't know. It's like I remember both realities at the same time. The one you died in _and_ the new one I made with the picture, where I woke up in that room with no idea how I got there. Like, they both feel completely real." Her mouth curled in a wince and she shook her head slowly. "Chloe, I don't even know which one I came from. It could be either."

"Could it be both?" Chloe asked after a pause. The timelines they had sketched on her uncle's bookcase popped into her mind and she mentally added another branch. Tuesday's photograph from the other world had happened before reality forked, so it existed in both timelines. Did that mean both versions of Max would be pulled into this place?

"I don't know. Maybe." Lower lip gripped between her teeth, Max stared off into space, lost in thought. After a few moments she seemed to wilt, sagging against Chloe's side and curling up around their linked hands. "It doesn't matter, anyway."

"Wait, what? Why not?"

"Because I used a picture. If I'm from the good reality, the one where you're alive, I'm just gonna get erased when the other version of me comes back after the photo jump. Like last week, when I didn't remember Thursday night. And if I'm from the bad one..." There was a long sigh, and Chloe could almost feel the energy draining out of her. "It just doesn't matter."

Her fatalism was almost as jarring as the idea of her inevitable replacement, of some slightly different version of herself showing up to take her place. That was something else Chloe hadn't considered, and she struggled to wrap her head around it. As awful as it seemed to her, it had to be a million times worse for Max.

"Of _course_ it matters," came Max's voice from the room across the divide. Chloe looked over to find her moving towards them, dismay plain on her face. Her own double watched quietly, nodding slightly in agreement. The other Max reached the bed and sat, stretching across Chloe to rest a hand on Max's knee.

"I get that you're scared, okay?" she continued. "I know I'd be completely terrified, and we're pretty much the same person. But you can't just give up. There's still -"

"Why not?" The reply was husky and defensive. "Chloe's alive, that's all that matters. And there's nothing I can do. There's no way I can escape. I _remember_ that fucking place, from the other me, the one from San Francisco. She's trying _so hard_ to get out, but the farthest she's ever gotten is that stupid elevator with no buttons. God, I don't want to go through that again."

The other Chloe spoke up quietly. "I'm so sorry, Max, but I think you might have to. At least some of it. If you really are from both realities, then there are two versions of you here right now, one from each timeline. And one of you still needs to use the picture from the coffee shop. I'm not sure what would happen if you didn't."

Max stiffened then slowly sat up. "Oh," she said in a small voice, understanding showing in her eyes the same moment it hit Chloe - even though this timeline existed, Max technically hadn't created it yet. That photo jump still lay in the future of the Max from the original timeline. The thought made her head spin, and she tried not to think about it.

"Somebody took a picture of us in the parking lot," she told Max, not sure how else to break the nervous silence. "One of the people that took you. You said they sent it to someone asking which one of us they were supposed to take."

"Did I say how long?" she asked. She seemed reluctant, like she was afraid somebody might actually answer her question.

"No," Chloe replied, as gently as she could. She squeezed the hand she still held, pulling it into her lap. "And I'm really sorry, but we think it could be a long time. You figured out how to rewind like you did the first day, when you reset everything. We think you planned it so you wouldn't teleport while they were watching us at the car."

"Oh," Max said again. Her voice was flat and toneless, but her face betrayed her emotion. Eyes unfocused and jaw trembling, it was like a blow straight to Chloe's heart.

"You can handle this," her double insisted firmly, giving Max's leg a little shake. "I _know_ you can. Just think about Chloe. Do it for her."

Max released a long breath. "I can do that," she whispered, almost to herself. Her eyes found Chloe's and, despite everything, she tried a shaky smile. It was brittle, as if it might shatter at any moment, but even behind the fear and hopelessness the love was unmistakable. Chloe's chest swelled like it could burst, and she gently pulled Max back down to her side.

"You're amazing," she said hoarsely, not realizing how choked up she was until she tried to speak.

Max settled in quietly and let her head rest on Chloe's shoulder. There were so many questions to ask - about the rewinds, about the future, about where they'd taken her - but Chloe couldn't bring herself to think about any of them. Right now she was content to just feel Max next to her, to be together and let the calm of this place surround them. Their breathing slowed, and Chloe felt some measure of peace finally returning, her thoughts slowly clearing for the first time since she drove away and left Max alone in the parking lot.

Max shifted around after a few minutes of quiet, not sitting up but twisting so she could see the others better. "I don't get it. Did I know the whole time? I mean, if I remember this in the bad reality, the original one, I'll know what's gonna happen. What I end up doing. How is that possible?"

" _I'll see you soon_ ," Chloe said, and Max craned her neck to look up at her. "That's what you said to me at the end, before you left. I think you knew we'd be here, that we'd see each other. I think you remembered this."

"I guess you can't have time travel without a good paradox," Chloe's double said, a little too cheerful in a transparent effort to lighten the mood. It didn't quite land, and she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm serious, though. How did you get the idea of learning the reset thing in the first place? She just told you about it, and she saw you do it in your future. So when you eventually go back in time to the coffee shop, she'll watch you do something that she told you about to begin with. Where did it start? And how?"

"Is this a Doctor Who thing?" Chloe asked after her mind stopped doing loops along with that idea. "It feels like a Doctor Who thing."

"Kinda, but it was after we stopped watching together," Max replied absently from her shoulder. Her voice was low and far away, like her thoughts weren't quite in the moment. "He went back in time to free himself from this prison cube thing, or whatever, but he could only do that because he had already gone back in time to free himself. It was weird."

"I always knew you were a dork," Chloe said, glancing down at Max. The corners of her lips curled, not quite a grin but enough to make everything suddenly seem a little less terrible. It was amazing what her smile could do.

"What made you use the picture?" Max asked her double after another long silence. "It was the perfect time, like you knew I needed to see her right that second."

"I don't know, I guess I just got really worried all of a sudden," she replied with a little shrug. "About Chloe. I wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong."

"That is one _hell_ of an understatement," the other Chloe chimed in. "She lost her shit out of nowhere, like borderline panic attack. I thought something awful was happening."

 _It is_ , Chloe thought, but kept her mouth shut and drew Max a little closer.

"I guess that makes sense. We know we're linked somehow," Max mused. The far away voice returned as she carried on. "It was only like a few minutes ago that the drugs wore off. The me in the bad reality didn't know yet that I used a picture, but in the good one I figured it out eventually and ended up rewinding to just before you brought us here. I almost kind of remembered a gunshot, and I knew I probably used a picture. So that meant I must've tried to save Chloe again, but I had no idea if it worked or not. The only thing I could think about was her. Maybe you felt that?"

The other Max nodded and her eyes widened as she shared the memory. "Yeah," she said, swallowing heavily. "That was it."

"What were all of those rewinds?" Chloe finally voiced the question she'd been holding back. "All the little ones before the big one, I mean. They scared the shit out of me."

"It was almost the same as before, in the San Francisco timeline," Max explained. "Marty came in and started asking -"

"That fucking _asshole_!" Chloe seethed, her anger instantly boiling over. It was strange to feel betrayed by someone she had never trusted in the first place, but she had been clinging to the idea that he would want to help them again. Now she wasn't so sure. "I swear to fucking god, I'm gonna -"

"Chloe," Max interrupted quietly, easily silencing her. "I know you're mad, but please just listen, okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Chagrined but still furious, she tried to focus as Max carried on.

"He was scared of Prescott finding out that he helped us, I think, and I mean like really scared - you couldn't miss it. I used his name when he showed up, and for a second I actually thought he was gonna turn around and start running away. That was the first thing I rewound. Then he started talking, not really asking a lot of questions but sort of like a conversation. Like prompting me, you know? A lot of the things they wanted to know were the same as before. When did I notice I was different, what could I do, what had I done. That sort of thing. And he tried to make me answer, but definitely not as hard as he did after San Francisco. I still fell for it a lot and had to rewind, but it was easier this time."

Chloe's relief was real. Her nightmares as she searched the house had devolved into scenarios well beyond reason, violent and awful things that in hindsight were insane to worry about. The reality of the situation was still appalling, but knowing that it was no worse than before was somehow a comfort.

"There was new stuff this time, though," Max continued. "He asked about Nathan, what I knew about him and where he might've gone, but he _did not_ want me to answer. As soon as he mentioned anything related to last night, I was instantly beyond frightened. Like actually terrified of answering the question. He obviously didn't want to take the chance that I would say something about us meeting him, but I guess he still wanted it to _look_ like he was trying to get me to talk."

She paused and squirmed to get more comfortable, her hair tickling Chloe's cheek. "God, you can't even imagine how confusing everything was. I woke up with no clue how I got there, and they were there like right away wanting to know about the coffee shop, but I don't remember any of that. Then one second I wanted to be _helpful_ and answer questions but the next I was too scared to talk, like back and forth. It was horrible. And I had to constantly rewind when I messed things up, but at the same time I was trying to get more information out of him. Like telling him something and then asking my own questions, you know? Trying to find out what happened, but he wouldn't tell me anything. By the time I thought I figured it out I couldn't even remember what I rewound and what I didn't, so I just erased all of it. This time I'm not even gonna open my mouth at all. Not a single word. I think it should be easy if I just focus on that."

The other Max shook herself after a moment as if returning to the present. She turned her worried gaze to Chloe. "I don't think he's gonna help. She's not kidding, he's really scared of -"

"He'll help," Chloe cut her off, surprising herself with the venom in her voice. "I'm gonna blackmail the fuck out of that piece of shit. If he doesn't help us, Max tells them what he did."

Max propped herself up on one elbow and stared at them with concern. "What are you doing?" she asked. Her question was low and fearful.

"I'm finding Marty," Chloe told her. "I'm getting you out."

"What?" The response was nearly a yell, and she shoved herself all the way upright. "Are you serious? They could _kill_ you again! What if I can't fix it this time?"

"This is happening, Max." She should have expected this, she realized. There would have been better ways to broach the subject, but it was too late for that. "I just broke into his house. I'm driving his car right now."

"Chloe, you are the reason I did _everything_. All of it. In all the timelines, all the rewinds, all I ever wanted was to keep you safe. And you _are_ safe, which is the only thing that matters. If you throw that away, then what was the fucking _point_ of it all? I'm just gonna be trapped in all these fucked up realities without you, and there won't be anything I can do about it!"

"Am I supposed to just go home and forget about everything?" Chloe asked her. She wanted to yell back but couldn't bear the thought of raising her voice to Max right now. "I don't even _have_ a home. All I have is you, and I'm not giving you up. I fucking refuse. I don't know how I'd live with myself knowing you were stuck in there with them. I don't think I'd even want to."

"But what if it doesn't work?" Max pleaded, quieter now.

"Then it doesn't work, but that's still way better than not even fucking trying." Max tried to speak but Chloe talked over her. "I love you, and you _know_ I trust you about pretty much everything. But not this, okay? You're not gonna change my mind. This is happening."

A hint of hope had crept into her eyes, marred by fear but still recognizable. Shaky and fragile, it slowly took hold as Chloe watched. "Promise me you'll be careful," Max eventually whispered, surrendering. Whether it was to her or to the newfound hope, Chloe wasn't sure.

"I promise," she replied reflexively.

"I'm _serious_ ," Max said as she sank back down and wrapped an arm almost too tightly around Chloe's waist. "They didn't even hesitate when they shot you before. You need to be _so_ careful."

"I know, Max," she tried to reassure her. "I will be."

"You can help," Chloe heard her own voice say. She turned her head towards the other bed and felt Max do the same. "Or at least be like a failsafe, or whatever. If we stay in touch, you'll know before she tries anything. You can rewind if things go wrong."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed, nodding as she looked down at Max. "How did you feel after the big rewind? Do you think you could do it again if you needed to?"

"My head kinda hurt, but I mostly felt fine, I guess. I probably could've kept going if I wanted to. How far back did I go?"

"Thirty minutes, maybe more," Chloe answered. "I searched his whole house, like every inch almost, and you rewound it all away."

"Whoa," Max exclaimed softly. "I knew it was long, but not _that_ long."

"No shit, timelord. ' _Whoa_ ' is fucking right. I almost didn't believe it either, when I realized."

"Did you find anything in the house?" Max's double asked, still perched on the edge of their bed.

"Not really," Chloe grimaced as she remembered her frantic search. "It was empty, like he's hardly ever there. All I could find was the address for his apartment in Portland. I'm on my way now, just left a minute ago. Oh, and he has a pretty sweet Jeep. Which I stole. Obviously."

"So should we come back here in a couple hours?" the other Chloe wondered. "To check in, see if you found anything?"

"I guess," Max said worriedly, and Chloe felt more than heard a tired sigh.

"We don't have to go back yet," Chloe told her, knowing what awaited her in the real world. "We can stay as long as you want."

"That might be a long time." Max yawned and curled up a little tighter. "I kinda don't wanna leave, like ever."

"I'm okay with that," Chloe said with difficulty, involuntarily yawning in imitation. Eyes suddenly heavy, she dimly watched Max's double stand and slowly walk back to the other room, leaving the two of them alone in the motel. Within minutes, Max began to snore softly as Chloe drifted around the edges of sleep, knowing she wouldn't be far behind.

 

* * *

 

Chloe picked indifferently at the container of cold fried rice, not so much hungry as bored senseless with the stakeout. The sun had dropped steadily as she kept watch from the Jeep, and it now streamed in obliquely through the windshield from its late afternoon station low in the sky. She was glad she bought those sunglasses in Olympia, she thought again as she dug around in the carton with a plastic fork, looking for the good bits.

Her phone had led her to a tree lined side-street in downtown Portland, and she found a parking spot a short way down the road from the four-storied brick building that matched the address on the envelope. She had made straight for the front door, but there was no response from the apartment even after a solid minute of mashing the buzzer marked _Sullivan 4A_ _._ That made sense, she realized eventually - Marty was probably still wherever Max was. Just to be sure, she took a quick stroll up and down the block looking for the car he had driven last night. The make and model escaped her, but she remembered it being sleek, black, and expensive. Seeing nothing that jogged her memory, she returned to her car and settled in to wait, stopping on the way to poke her head into a little Chinese restaurant and order delivery to the Jeep down the street.

She had felt precariously on edge driving out of Arcadia Bay, worried about Max and dreading what to her seemed like inevitable rewinds. None came, and her anxiety receded to a nervous sort of relief as she neared the city. Max's plan to keep silent had worked in both realities, she found out later when the expected trip through the photo arrived just after her food. Their second meeting of the afternoon was almost perfunctory, barely long enough to fill each other in. Max, surprisingly, had been the one urging things along. She didn't say it, but Chloe thought she understood why - the longer they stayed, the harder it would become to leave. They had woken up earlier that afternoon entwined on the motel bed, and for one achingly wonderful second it almost felt like nothing at all had changed. Forcing themselves to leave after that had been heart-wrenching.

A flash of black caught her eye in the mirror, and her head swiveled to watch a Jaguar sedan roll slowly past, its hood ornament gleaming in the sun. Deeply tinted windows hid the inside from view. It parallel parked expertly not far from the brick building, and after a moment the door swung open. Marty stepped out, instantly recognizable despite the fact that Chloe had only ever seen him in darkness.

Chinese food scattered across the pavement as she burst out of the car and strode directly at him. Looking down at his phone, he ambled toward his building while Chloe quickly closed the distance. He stopped abruptly just before reaching the entrance, freezing in place as if recalling something important. His head snapped up and he looked around, face darkening as he caught sight of her barreling down the sidewalk.

"Are you _serious_?" he yelled as Chloe came to a stop in front of him. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck do you think you're doing coming here? Wait, is that _my_ fucking car? How the hell did you manage that?"

She could only stare back mutely, struck dumb by uncertainty. There was no plan, she realized - she had been so intent on finding him that she had given no thought to what she would say when she actually did.

"Get in," he said eventually, pointing to his Jeep with a sigh. "We can't talk here."

Obedient feet spun her around and carried her back the way she had come. The door still hung open and the incessant dinging of the keys in the ignition grew louder as she approached, Marty following behind.

"Passenger side, genius," he said tiredly as she went to sit down behind the wheel.

Chloe nodded silently and complied, buckling her seat belt while she watched him climb in and turn the key. She leaned back as they pulled out into the city, trying to work out where they might be headed. There was no way to know, she decided, but that didn't seem to matter all that much. If she was patient, she was bound to find out eventually.

There was a soft whisper in the back of her mind, something pleading for attention. _Patient,_ she thought again in confusion, noticing how wrong that idea felt. She poked at the thought, trying to pinpoint the strangeness. It hit her all at once, and she struggled to throw off the haze as she drew the gun and placed it on her lap, its barrel pointing roughly in Marty's direction.

"Stop. Fucking. Doing that," she snarled.

"Sorry," he said casually. Her thoughts were suddenly free and almost overwhelmingly loud as they scrambled to catch up. "I just needed a minute to think. You're putting me in one hell of a terrible position here, and I have no idea -"

"What?" Chloe shouted, fury exploding through her. "None of this is my fault! We didn't do shit except try not to get _kidnapped_ by you fucking psychos! If you blame me or Max again, I swear to god I will shoot you."

"You're right," he said carefully, staring out of the corner of his eye at the gun she had shoved in his face. "I'm sorry. You can put that down, okay? I promise I'm not the bad guy here."

She paused and took a long second to feel around for any traces of his mental puppet strings. There were none, and she slowly lowered her revolver. "You're gonna help me get Max out," she told him.

"I can't do that. I'm sorry." His voice was sincere, and he fumbled nervously lighting a cigarette. "Really, I am, but I just can't. I'm only talking to you because ... you, uh, deserve it, I guess."

"I know you were with her today and she didn't say a single word." Chloe mentally crossed her fingers as she put her cards on the table. "I _also_ know that you fucked around with the questions because you're scared shitless of Prescott finding out you screwed him. If you don't help me, Max is gonna tell him."

"Jesus Christ, _that's_ what she can do?" he wheezed in shock, choking out a thick cloud of smoke. "Goddamn telepathy? She somehow told you everything at this fucking distance? I mean, they said it was supposed be something unbelievable, but this is actually insane."

"Are you even listening to me?" she asked, her confidence beginning to crumble alarmingly at how little he seemed to care. "Help, or we tell Prescott _exactly_ what you did for us last night."

"Go ahead," he said as he calmly came to a stop at a traffic light. His nonchalance instantly shattered her composure. The world blurred slightly and his voice went hollow and echoey. "I'm leaving right fucking now. I have money in accounts they can't get at and a new passport in a safety deposit box. I bought a goddamn _house_ in Lima months ago because I knew this shit was inevitable. Hell, I'd be on a plane _already_ if I'd known it was Max. The only reason I even went in when they called me was because I assumed they found Nathan. I watched him grow up, you know? Yeah, he grew up into a prick, but I still care about the little shit."

The words bounced around inside her skull, making sense but not quite registering. Nothing seemed important beyond the fact that her plan had just been brushed aside with barely an acknowledgment. She felt herself raise the gun again, seeing no other option. "You're fucking helping. You don't have a choice."

He sighed, and it was enough to make her feel awful about threatening him. With a guilty wince, she let the gun fall back to her lap.

"Relax." The guilt evaporated as he preemptively raised a placating hand. "Let's make a deal, okay? I promise I won't manipulate you if you promise to put that gun away. You alright with that?"

After a moment she growled out a curse that was almost a sob and shoved the gun into the pocket of her sweatshirt. The thing was useless if she couldn't even point it at him. "You have to help," she said, hating the desperate waver in her voice. " _Please_. I don't know if I can do it by myself."

"I'm sorry," he said again. He took a long drag off his cigarette and deliberately avoided looking at her. "Let's say we somehow get her out without getting caught. Or shot. What next? There're cameras everywhere - they'll know what happened immediately, and then we're _all_ fucked. They have resources you can't imagine. There's no way I make it out of the country, probably not even the goddamn city. And they'll stick _both_ of you back in the basement. It _will_ happen. I guarantee it."

"Can you at least tell me where she is?" Chloe croaked, trying to keep her voice steady. She was grateful for the dark sunglasses that hid the tears in her eyes. The idea of him seeing made her feel strangely ill. "You don't have to take me there or anything, just tell me how to find her."

He shook his head slowly and stared straight ahead as the light turned green in front of them. "You won't even make it inside."

"Maybe not the first time, but eventually I might." She was thinking out loud to herself, only dimly realizing how much she was about to give away. "I don't care how long it takes. I have to try."

That got him to glance over, and Chloe was shocked at the empathy on his face. It was still there, she understood suddenly - whatever it was that had led him to help last night, it hadn't gone away. Maybe Marty wasn't actually a piece of shit, she thought. Maybe he was just in over his head.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked in a curious voice.

She took a deep breath and rolled the dice on what was surely her last chance. "It's not telepathy. It's time travel. They might stop me dozens of times, hundreds maybe, but it won't matter. She can turn back time for me to try again whenever shit goes wrong."

He turned the wheel abruptly, parking in front of a 711 and setting the handbrake. There was a disturbingly long silence. "You're not lying," he finally said, and she wondered at the certainty in his voice.

"I'm not lying," she confirmed. "That's how we knew those assholes were there for us in Olympia. They killed me, but Max went back in time to fix it. It's how we figured out what Nathan was doing with Mark Jefferson in that bunker. It's how we found Rachel Amber. She was my friend."

"That was you?" Something had shifted in his demeanor. Softer, hesitant like he had been caught completely off guard.

"Max, mostly, but yeah," she answered.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I swear I had no idea what they were doing. If I'd known, I would've -"

"I believe you," Chloe cut him off. An idea had sprung into her mind fully formed, and she didn't want to lose the moment. "Listen, Max can make it look like we were never there. The only thing we need to do is get her outside, and she can rewind everything back. We won't be on any security cameras. Nobody will see _anything_ \- it'll look like she just disappeared. Shit, dude, we can probably make it so you never even get out of your fucking car, from your point of view."

"You really aren't lying," he repeated incredulously. "This is fucking nuts." She let him smoke in silence for a moment as he chewed things over. "Wouldn't she end up back inside when she turns back time?"

"No, it doesn't do anything to her. She says it's like she stands there and everything just goes backwards around her." He was actually _considering_ this, she realized, and it took effort to contain her growing elation. "We've done this before, but breaking _into_ places. Like, she literally blew a door up and then rewound inside the room so she could unlock it normally. At least that's what she told me. I didn't start remembering the rewinds until later."

"You were the one she saved?" he asked in surprise, breaking her focus with the non sequitur. "I mean the first time she did it. It wasn't a parent or a sibling or someone like that?"

Chloe couldn't imagine how he had guessed or why it would matter, but she shrugged and answered anyway. "Uh, yeah. Your friend Nathan murdered me in the Blackwell Academy bathroom. Max rewound and stopped it."

His eyes were wide as he took a deep breath and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. The pause stretched on too long, and Chloe shifted around nervously. She had begun to search for something new that might convince him when he broke the silence.

"Can she rewind this far back if things go tits up?" he asked. Chloe stared in confusion until he tried a grin that was closer to a grimace. "So I can tell myself how much of an idiot I'm about to be by agreeing to this insanity?"

"Holy shit, thank you," she breathed. The relief was physical, almost like a wave. It spread out into her limbs, tugging her down into her seat. "Dude, you have no fucking idea."

"Don't thank me yet," he said, nerves obvious. He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and immediately reached for another. "We still have to figure out how the hell we're actually gonna make this happen."

Chloe nodded, mind already working furiously. She knew there was a way to do this. They just had to find it.


	10. Are Not Lost

Her nose wrinkled as she stepped into the motel room and flicked on the lights. Intensely floral, the air freshener was eye-watering and almost as offensive as the hint of mildew it was failing to hide. Something had left a blotchy stain on the carpet near the bathroom door and the curtains were noticeably yellowed near the ceiling. Chloe tossed her shopping bag onto the nearest bed and turned to frown at Marty.

"What did you expect?" he asked, glancing around the room as the door swung shut behind him. "You knew what we were looking for. Places like this are cheap and anonymous for a reason."

Laughter brayed from the next room, manic and probably drug-fueled.

"He seems to like it." Marty nodded his head towards the thin wall. His voice was deadpan, but Chloe hadn't missed him nearly jump out of his shoes at the sudden noise.

"Pretty sure that's the meth." She rolled her eyes and dug into the plastic bag. Underneath a cream colored turtleneck and a pair of dark slacks she found the hair dye. A pretty woman smiled at her coyly from the box, deep brunette hair spilling down over her shoulders.

"I'm still not convinced that this will work," Marty told her as she shrugged out of her hoodie and headed for the bathroom. He brushed off the bedspread with his hand before sitting down.

"It only has to work for a couple minutes," she replied. Reaching the sink, she tore open the box and dumped the contents onto the counter. "Besides, you said we only have to fool like one dude. You can do your Jedi shit. It'll be fine."

"No, I said there's _at least_ one person _at the entrance_. That's why we're doing this in the middle of the night, right? If we get lucky there might not be anybody else there." From behind her, Chloe heard the scratch of a cigarette lighter and then a sigh as he exhaled. "And they know what I can do. If I push too hard they'll notice, just like you do."

Her hands began moving on their own, mixing the dye while her brain mulled things over. It was hard not to be nervous about what they intended to do that night. The plan was worryingly simple. Max was being held in the basement of a building just outside the city, and it would be, in Marty's words, 'literally impossible' to break in. The picture he painted was convincing - barred windows and remotely locked doors, cameras everywhere. As insane and reckless as it felt, pretending like they belonged and walking in through the front door was likely their only shot at pulling this off.

He had happened to overhear things that afternoon, he went on to explain, about Prescott flying people in from out of town to help examine Max. Biologists, doctors, physicists - people were about to crowd into the basement cell, prodding and measuring until they had wrung every drop of data out of her. Passing Chloe off as one of them, straight from the airport and a little too eager to get started, had a decent chance of getting her in the door, provided she showed up looking the part next to someone security already knew.

After that ... they weren't sure. That was where the rewinds would come in, Chloe guessed. Once they had been inside a few times, probably failing horribly, they would have a better idea of what needed to be done. With any luck the failures wouldn't be too rough - the idea of dying and remembering the rewind made her decidedly queasy.

She focused on the dye and resisted a nervous impulse to glance around for a clock. The time wouldn't have changed since she last checked. It was still around six o'clock - ages before they would set their plan in motion. And she still had about an hour before the other Max was planning to bring the four of them together through the picture. She would explain everything then, and make sure her Max knew what was coming. The fact that they needed to leave her in her cell for hours yet, practically the whole night, was something she hadn't fully accepted. Every part of her said _go now_ , and she had to fight off the knowledge that anything could be happening while they waited.

"Relax," she told him, slightly irritated that his unease was rubbing off on her. He had been a chain-smoking ball of nerves ever since he agreed to help. "It doesn't have to work -"

"The first time," Marty cut her off. "Yeah, you keep saying that. It still doesn't make any goddamn sense to me, even though I know what it's supposed to mean. I can't get my head around it."

"Just trust Max, okay?" Chloe pulled a towel off the rack and gave it a sniff before draping it over her shoulders. "I literally died this morning, and I'm fine. It wasn't the first time, either. If something goes wrong, she'll rewind and we'll try again. She's an actual fucking superhero."

There was a strange, breathy laugh from the room behind her, and she turned to find an expression that was equal parts bewildered and amused.

"You would tell me if you were crazy, right?" he asked with a grin and a shake of his head.

Chloe snorted and turned back to the mirror.

"Because you've had complete faith in everything you've told me," he continued, pausing for a drag off his cigarette. "Which doesn't necessarily mean it's true. It could just mean you're kinda wacko."

A gloved hand raised automatically to flip him off over her shoulder while the other gave the bottle of hair dye a final shake. "How do you do that?" she wondered. "You said before you knew I wasn't lying."

"You know how most people can look at somebody, at their expression and posture and things like that, and get a decent handle on what they're feeling? I'm, uh, extremely good at that."

"You mean like supernaturally good." There was little doubt in her mind that was what he meant.

"Yeah." The television came on behind her and the volume was quickly turned down low. "I can't read minds or anything like that, just recognize emotions and intentions. The same things I can influence. It's sort of the other side of what I can do. Usually something else develops, some other thing related to the original thing."

No longer preoccupied with the question of what to do next, Chloe found herself intensely curious. "How much do you know about this shit? Do you know what happened to Max? How she can do what she does?"

"I don't really know much," he replied. "And the Prescotts don't have anything more than guesses, not even after decades of research. I've spent a lot of time where Max is right now, and so have others. Getting samples taken or getting scans done. Voluntarily, I mean. And they still haven't been able to confirm any theories about what all of this actually is."

"Voluntarily?" Her hands froze for a second where they were working the dye into her hair. "Uh, you're gonna have to explain that."

"Right," he said, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Okay, so Sean Prescott is a terrible human being, but he's not evil. At least he's not _intentionally_ evil. He's just ... pragmatic to a fault. Beyond a fault. To the point of cruelty, actually. But the point I'm trying to make is he's not some kind of crazy megalomaniac. He actually comes across as pretty normal until you've spent a fair amount of time with him. So when he turned up after my mom and brother died and said 'Hey, sorry about your family, but we know you're different. We'll give you a place to live, an education, and a job if you come to Oregon with us,' I agreed almost on the spot. I ended up living in a room like Max's for a while. It was a different building then, but the same idea. I still go in every couple of months to get blood taken or an MRI or whatever it is the research people decide they need."

"Is it alright if I ask what happened?" she asked. "How you found out what you could do?" His comment about family had made her wary, cautious of pushing too far. Somehow that seemed to matter more than it usually would have.

"Yeah," he replied. For a long moment the only sound was the faint noise of a commercial from the TV. Eventually he cleared his throat. "I was a junior in high school, spring of ninety-six. I used to work as a cashier at a gas station after school, and my older brother was there one afternoon, just hanging out and waiting for my shift to end. A few guys from town came in, and they started giving him a hard time as soon as they noticed him. Some macho jealousy shit about somebody's girlfriend. If I ever got the whole story, I don't remember it. But it went really violent, really fast. I was scared out of my mind and sure they were gonna hurt him for real. Not just beat him up, but actually put him in the hospital or maybe worse. I don't remember what I said, or if I even said anything, but I know I needed them to leave. To just forget about it and go away. And they did.

"It was obvious right away that something bizarre had happened. They just stopped hitting him all at once and looked at each other like they couldn't remember what they were doing. One guy actually paid for gas like nothing was wrong. And then they walked out, just like that. And Andrew, my brother, was okay. Broken nose and some ugly bruises, but more or less fine. We figured out pretty quickly what it was that I could do, and it was one hell of a week after that. Free meals at Denny's, staying out past curfew, trying to find out if Sarah from homeroom liked me back. Just kid stuff, really, but it was fun while it lasted. It never really worked right on Andrew, though, and after a couple days it stopped working on him altogether."

"That was how you knew Max saved me," Chloe guessed. She still couldn't grasp why that might be important.

"Yeah. I was surprised. What happened to me, what happened to Max - it's extraordinarily rare. But the Prescotts have documents that go back a long time, and as far as I'm aware it's always involved family. Somebody that was incredibly important, like a brother or a parent, or sometimes a kid or wife or something if they're a little older than me and Max. Never a friend, though, even though there's no reason why it shouldn't be."

"Does it matter?"

"No. Except ..." The mattress squeaked and she heard footfalls scuff against carpet as Marty moved around the room. An ashtray slid across a table. She was about to urge him to finish the thought when he continued. "I think I'd probably be at the airport right now if it wasn't for that. My brother and I were really close. And when I realized you were Max's Andrew, so to speak, it was hard not to imagine him there asking for help instead of you. He wouldn't have given up, either, if I was where Max is. I couldn't say no."

"Thanks," Chloe told him, watching him in the mirror above the sink. He stood by the window, shoulders hunched and hands in pockets as he gazed into the parking lot. "And I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You didn't guilt me into it or anything, I just needed something to nudge me towards doing the right thing." He shook himself and wandered back towards the bathroom.

"No, I meant sorry about your brother. And your mom. I know how much that sucks." The words sounded embarrassingly superficial, but he caught her eye in the mirror and nodded.

"Thanks," he said, leaning against the doorjamb. "You're curious about what happened."

"Kinda hard not to be," she confirmed. "Probably didn't even need to read my mind for that one."

Marty chuckled humorlessly. "Guess not," he said, and lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

"There was a storm, wasn't there? Like in Arcadia Bay?" She couldn't explain how she was certain, but somehow it felt obvious.

"Not exactly," he replied. "We didn't get any of the strange shit, like the whales or the eclipse. Or if we did, nobody noticed. It just rained. It started the evening after the gas station and didn't stop, just a steady downpour. And this was early spring in the mountains in Vermont. Tiny little town, smaller than Arcadia Bay. It only really existed for people to stop in on their way to go skiing. But on top of the rain, there was still all this snow up in the mountains above us, and it was melting fast. Everything was a mess. Flooding, washed out roads, the works. If that was all it was, nobody would've gotten hurt, but after about a week something gave way. I could almost feel it, like it was building up and building up until it decided to let loose.

"I had just gotten to school when it happened. There was this awful noise and everything shook like mad. Half the goddamn mountain collapsed, right down onto the town. Not literally, obviously, but it was still thousands of tons of mud and rock. Enough to take out a couple dozen houses and part of Main Street. It missed the school, thankfully, but it was early enough that most people hadn't left for work yet. Andrew and my mom were still at home."

"Jesus," Chloe breathed. She could almost picture the hills behind Arcadia Bay losing their grip and tumbling down, sweeping homes in front of them. She wondered if that was even close to what he had lived through.

"Yeah. It was a fucking nightmare for me and everybody else, but comparatively it wasn't that bad." He shrugged when she directed a surprised look his way. "I know it's a weird thing to say, but what you guys had in Arcadia Bay was much worse. And in the past there've been things like fires, earthquakes, explosions, you name it. In Cameroon in the eighties one killed almost two thousand people. There was this lake - volcanic or something, I think. Somehow it released gases that suffocated everybody for miles."

"Wait. All that stuff - our storm, your landslide, the lake thing - it didn't happen because of the powers, right?" Apprehension grabbed her as the question came to mind. Max would be devastated if she learned that the other Chloe had been wrong, that she was in fact responsible for bringing the storm into existence.

"No." He shook his head, understanding on his face as he noticed her relief. "They tell me it all would have happened anyway, that it's as much a symptom of whatever's happening as the powers are. The research people explain their theory like this. Imagine there's some kind of energy out there. A field, I think they call it. It exists everywhere, but at a much lower level than Max or I experienced. And the mind can perceive it, even use it subconsciously like another sense. Evolutionarily it makes sense, kind of, that if it's out there animals might be able to make use of it. Think about intuition and instinct, or even something like unconscious pattern recognition. It's pushing into science fiction territory, but the brain is weird. It's not impossible that it's interacting with reality in some way we're not aware of."

"This is from their scientists?" Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Kinda sounds like a bunch of hippy shit."

"Either that or Star Wars." Marty laughed and stepped back to sit on the bed again. "It is just a theory, but they'll point to things like studies showing minimal but verifiable ESP, or twins that have a weird sort of mental connection. Stuff that gets dismissed because it's insane. To them it's significant and believable."

"Okay, so this energy or whatever just freaks out every now and then? Decides to hand out super powers?"

"That's not far off. They say it probably wouldn't be uniform, that it would build up in places. Sort of like static builds up until it discharges. Sometimes nothing major happens, or sometimes it's only a thunderstorm or something. But they think that if somebody near the buildup is at an emotional extreme, they can tap into it. Somehow it changes how the brain works. You, uh, know how that turns out."

"Yup," she acknowledged, turning her head back and forth to examine the dye in the mirror. "Sorta why I'm still here."

"Right. But there might actually be some truth to their ideas, because they can trigger the change in people. They've been able to do it for a long time. When Prescott found me in Vermont, he had his niece with him, and she looked as shell-shocked as I was. They'd been there for days, weeks maybe, doing ... something. Something that let her tap into it too. The same thing they did for Nathan last week, and in Cameroon thirty years ago. Before that -"

"What can he do?" she butted in. An image of Nathan exploding into a ball of light rose in her mind's eye.

"Nathan? If they know, they haven't told me," he explained, rolling with the interruption. "But if Max can do something with time, it'll be related. It's a crap-shoot in a lot of ways, but that's how it tends to work. Prescott's niece can do things with memories, sort of like I can suggest emotions. Except it's so weak it's nearly useless unless I'm there to help, or unless the, uh, victim is drugged to the gills."

"She was the one," Chloe said. Her fists clenched, and she had trouble keeping the venom from her voice. "From the basement. When you fucked with Max."

"In the dreams I had?" He hadn't missed the change, and his voice went suddenly defensive. "Yeah, but that was just a possibility. Hypothetical. We never actually did it."

She bit back a response as she stripped off the dye-stained gloves and tossed them into the sink. Returning to the room, she hopped up to sit on the dresser by the murmuring television. Marty watched her curiously as her boots knocked idly against the drawers. It had taken some time to decide, but now she was sure. After everything he had told her, it only made sense to share the whole of what she and Max had been through.

"Those weren't dreams, or hypothetical. They were memories from a different timeline. Parallel universe. Alternate reality. Whatever you wanna call it." Another thought occurred to her as she watched his confusion. Surprised it had taken so long to realize, she quickly continued. "And I know for a fact that the storm wasn't guaranteed to happen. Whoever told you that is either wrong or straight up fucking lying."

His hand stalled where it had been rubbing his beard. It dropped slowly to his lap as he frowned at her. "Explain," he finally said.

She did. Reduced to a series of bullet points and spouted off rapid-fire, everything from the past week and a half seemed preposterous, so far-fetched as to be almost unbelievable. Marty listened carefully, his expression growing steadily more stupefied. When she finished, he gazed wide-eyed into space. The hand was back in his beard, rubbing thoughtfully.

"Okay," he said slowly, then fixed her with an intense stare. "How sure are you about all of this?"

"Positive. I remember other timelines, shit that never happened to me. I fucking met myself. It's real."

"I mean specifically the timeline without the storm." He hadn't looked this serious even when they were planning their break-in. "You're sure? It couldn't be a mistake?"

"Max is sure, so I'm sure," she confirmed. "I'm kinda dead in that reality, but she remembers it."

He nodded almost imperceptibly. "What does it mean, then? Did we actually cause everything? Is it our fault?"

"Oh." Of course he would fixate on that. Nobody wanted to imagine they might be responsible for destroying their home and the people they loved. "You're missing the point. Max had already used her powers in that timeline. She rewound the day I died, before she even took the picture she went back to. Shit dude, she had already created like eight or nine realities by that point. If fucking around with time brought the storm, it should've happened there too. It's gotta mean something else caused it, right? Something that didn't happen because I got shot."

His nod strengthened as he digested the thought. Eventually it became a dazed shake of the head. "Do you have any idea how insane this is?"

"Uh, duh," she answered. "I was there."

"No, what she can do." He ignored the snark and carried on. "It was goddamn nuts when I thought it was just time travel, but this is so far beyond anything they've ever imagined. There's never been anything that wasn't purely mental. It's only ever been the same ESP crap that people everywhere have claimed for centuries. Premonitions. Clairvoyance. Empathy or telepathy. And it's never even been particularly powerful. I mean, I'm supposed to be about as strong as they come, and you're starting to resist what I can do after not even a day. Yeah, you're definitely stubborn as all hell, but still. The point stands."

Chloe flipped him off again, her lips half curling into a smirk.

He flashed a quick grin and continued. "We're not the X-Men. She shouldn't be able to do any of this. Changing reality. Creating reality. Teleporting, or something so close it's indistinguishable if you don't know how it works. And this dream-world thing with the picture. It's strange to say, but that's probably the least surprising out of all of it."

"How am I even part of that?" she wondered. "I'm not one of you freaks. I can't do anything special."

"She affects you differently, just like I affected Andrew differently. You were part of it, when she found out what she could do. You probably changed as well. Not as much, obviously." He cocked his head. "Oh. I just got it. How she told you about what happened today. Jesus, there's so much it's hard to keep up."

"No shit," she agreed. Her thoughts had already begun to spin the rest of the evening forward. "And I'm gonna see her again in like an hour. Do you know if there's a clock in her cell?"

"I think so," he answered. "It's actually pretty nice for what it is. Why?"

"So she knows when to rewind," she explained. "Is fifteen minutes enough time to get inside?"

"Definitely. If it takes longer than that, we'll be having problems." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "We should go in at two at the earliest. Anybody working late should be long gone by then."

"Okay," she said. "And if she doesn't see us by two fifteen, she'll take us back to two."

"Right." The reply was hesitant, like he was feigning confidence. Whether for Chloe's benefit or his own, it was hard to know.

"Don't worry about it, dude. You won't remember anything. You're not even gonna get out of your car, remember?" she reassured him, trying to dismiss the knowledge that she wouldn't have that protection if things went bad.

Evidently that was the wrong thing to say. Marty frowned then took a deep breath. "I need to get some rest," he said. "I was up all night. You should too."

"Can't." She pointed to her hair. "Not 'til I wash this out and talk to Max."

"Right," he said again, standing and brushing off the rest of the bedspread. "Just try not to be too loud, okay? I'm tired as hell."

"Gotcha," she replied as she hopped off the dresser and went for her cigarettes. Nervous energy swirled around her insides. It was already obvious that this was going to be a painfully long wait. She just hoped she would be able to find a few hours of sleep before the time came.

 

* * *

 

The floor tiles were cold underneath her butt and the cuffs bit tightly into her wrists. She sat cross-legged, the shackles between arms and ankles too short to stretch her legs out. Marty leaned against the wall next to her, occasionally releasing a tired sigh. Flexing her hands against the discomfort, Chloe glowered at the man who had cuffed them. He returned the stare coolly and took a long sip of his coffee. Wearing a buzz cut and a jaw like an anvil, he leaned against the side of a desk and examined them with something that might have been confusion. On one hip rested a pistol, on the other what looked like a taser was holstered to draw across his body.

Video monitors crowded the desk behind him. A sliver of the far screen was just visible from where Chloe sat, and every fifteen seconds or so she watched as Max briefly wandered into view. She paced slow circles around her cell in the basement, tormenting Chloe with occasional glimpses. Being this close was agonizing, and seeing her only made it worse. The urge to fight her way forward biting and kicking was nearly irresistible, but she knew that would get them nowhere. Her eyes flicked once again to the clock on the wall. Two thirteen. A couple more minutes before their second try.

"Jesus, Sullivan," an incredulous voice said for what had to be the tenth time. Another man strolled over from the far side of the room stuffing a phone into his pants pocket. He wore the same polo shirt and khakis as the man staring down at them, the same weapons on his belt. Both were clean-shaven and uptight. They reminded her a little of David in the wooden way they carried themselves. Probably ex-military, she had guessed almost immediately after arriving.

"I mean what the fuck were you thinking?" he continued. Chloe remembered the baffled look on his face when he had drawn his gun. It was clear that he couldn't even begin to understand what was happening. He had been delighted to see Marty when they showed up, had greeted him like an old friend.

"I pushed too hard, didn't I?" Marty asked.

"You're goddamn right," the man responded. "What did you expect, trying your shit on us? And you know nobody comes in here who's not cleared in advance. Jesus. The old man is gonna fuck you sideways for this."

"Fuck the old man," Marty said, and laughed as though he had surprised himself. "I can't stand that asshole, anyway."

The other guard stirred where he was perched on the side of the desk. His brow creased. "Hey," he said cautiously, setting his mug down next to Chloe's revolver. "Something's weird here."

Marty ignored him and turned his head. His breath came heavily and his eyes were wide. There was doubt there that she hadn't noticed before. Maybe he still didn't completely believe that Max could actually fix this.

"Make sure to tell me that I forgot about the clearance list," he said, making no effort to lower his voice. "There's no way they'll let us in. And don't let me push that hard next time."

"Got it," she replied. "Anything else? Any ideas?"

He shook his head as the guard at the desk rose to his feet. One hand resting on his pistol, he took two careful steps in their direction. Unable to stop herself, Chloe flashed him a wink and what she hoped was a cheeky grin. His feet faltered, and she couldn't help but laugh at the uncertainty that spread across his face. She was still laughing a few seconds later when the rewind swept her away.

"- longer do we have to wait?" Marty was wondering as the vertigo passed. "It just turned two."

Dashboard lights seemed curiously bright as she glanced around and regained her bearings. A car engine hummed softly. They were in the Jeep, pulled over onto the shoulder. The road was dark and overhung with branches, not a streetlight in sight. A quarter mile from Prescott's building, this was the perfect place for Max to rewind once they freed her.

Chloe gestured and he pulled the car smoothly out onto the road. "I guess we didn't fuck that one up too bad," she said.

"Huh?"

"Nobody got shot." The words were meant to be flippant, but they came out on a breath of sincere relief. She knew what could have happened, what still might happen. These people hadn't hesitated to kill her that morning, and now she was barging straight into their house carrying a gun. Max would be there to take away anything truly awful, but they would still need to live through it first.

"Fuck me, we started already?" he asked after a pause, apparently taking a moment to catch up. "Gotta say, this is still pretty hard for me to believe."

"I know," Chloe replied. "Okay, so we didn't even get past the entrance. There are two dudes. One guy at a desk watching security cameras, and another hanging out like he's on a break or something. I think you're friends. He seemed pretty stoked to see you."

"Sounds like Jim. Late thirties, short hair, muscles?"

That could have described either of them. "Yeah. And introduce them to me this time. That was hella awkward."

"Will do," he replied. "What went wrong?"

"You kinda went at their brains with a sledgehammer when they realized I didn't have clearance. They weren't exactly happy about that, judging by the guns they pointed at us. It almost worked for a few seconds, though."

"Goddammit," he swore. "I forgot about that stupid list."

"Yeah, no shit."

"It's not something I ever have to think about," he explained. "I'm always cleared to be there. No one's even mentioned it to me in years."

"Well, we've gotta think about it now," she pointed out, tugging at the sweater around her throat. Maybe the turtleneck had been a bad idea. "And you need to chill with the mind shit. They were totally buying everything until you went crazy with it."

"Sorry, I must've panicked," he said. His fingers had started a nervous tapping on the steering wheel. "I'll keep it subtle. Relaxed and gullible, just like we said."

"Right," she agreed. It would be enough to stop them from looking too critically, he had told her, but anything more would give the game away.

"Do we have a plan?" he asked. The car slowed noticeably as the road curved and streetlights appeared behind the trees. They were almost there.

"Yeah. Take 'em by surprise." Conning their way inside hadn't work worked and probably never would. Even though she hated to imagine how it could turn out, they needed to try something else.

"What? How? These guys are trained, Chloe. It'll never work."

"It won't if we play fair, but fuck playing fair. I have a gun and you can mess with their heads. They won't see us coming."

Marty braked and took the turn-off. It was an unmarked but well lit lane leading to a clearing back in the trees. The first time through she had glimpsed security cameras high on the lampposts. This time she didn't even look up.

"Trust me, " Chloe said, overdoing the confidence even though she knew he could see through it. "It took a few seconds for them to get their shit together after you scrambled their brains. Time it right and we can totally do this. We don't even have to hurt anybody, just make it so they can't stop us."

"Maybe," he conceded. "I really don't like it, though." He was taking his time, letting the car inch its way toward the parking spaces.

"Don't make a big deal when they check the list. Just act annoyed or something, like you forgot. Get them to chill out and talk. Then hit them hard with your Jedi shit. I'll go for desk guy, you get your friend. Take his gun or something."

He was silent as he rolled the Jeep to a stop next to a pickup. He pulled the handbrake. Shadows obscured half his face, but she could easily see his thoughtful frown end in a nod. "Fuck it," he said. "I'll give it a shot. I won't remember any of this, anyway."

"You've got this, dude." She forced a grin as she popped the door and swung her boots out onto the asphalt.

A single storied brick box sat in the middle of the clearing. Without the bars on the windows, it might easily have been mistaken for something as simple as a dentist's office. Tidy balls of green shrubbery trimmed its edges, lit as if in daylight by the exterior lights. They were bright enough to make Chloe squint, and threw angular shadows deep into the woods around them.

Marty strode towards the entrance, one hand digging into the pocket of his jeans. He already seemed more confident this time around, she thought as she trailed a few steps behind. Maybe he was finding belief easier now that he had seen a rewind in action. Reaching the entrance, he waved a keycard at something and there was the solid clunk of a lock releasing. He pulled the door open and stood aside, motioning her forward.

They were in a small, windowless vestibule, ten feet to a side. On the opposite wall was a second door. A camera was mounted above it, trained directly at them. Marty stepped up next to her and waved at it casually, almost lazily. Knowing she was being watched, she made herself ignore the compulsion to check the gun stuck down the back of her slacks.

Here was where the nerves kicked in, just like before. She had felt composed all the way up until the door clicked shut behind her, but now her pulse began to run away from her. Her hands trembled and she pressed them against her thighs to hide the shaking. A calm descended after a moment, heavy like a blanket and utterly unexpected. Marty met her glance knowingly. This was new, she thought. If he had noticed her fear last time, he hadn't helped.

A buzzer sounded and he hauled the inner door open. The room on the other side was utilitarian and barely furnished. On her left the guard sat behind his row of monitors, seemingly protecting a door that led deeper into the building. A long table stood against the far wall, set with break-room basics like a mini-fridge and microwave. The man Marty had called Jim looked up from where he was watching a coffee maker. A smile split his face.

"Marty fuckin Sullivan," he said. He reached them in a few long strides as he extended his hand. The handshake quickly became a back slapping hug.

"Good to see you, man," Marty said after Jim released him. "How long's it been?"

"Too long," Jim replied, still smiling. "I heard I missed you earlier today. Who's your friend?"

"This is Dr. Jones. Just picked her up from the airport. She'll be helping us out for a little while." He grinned at Chloe. "Dr. Jones, meet Jim Patterson. Don't believe anything he says."

"Elizabeth," Chloe said as she shook his hand. It wasn't hard to conjure up a smile. This was already going swimmingly compared to the stiff and nervous disaster of a first attempt. It was like Marty had finally accepted that all of this was throwaway. None of it would stick and nothing mattered except the outcome.

"And over here we have ... uh," Marty hesitated as he turned to the man at the desk. "Darryl?"

"Darren," the man said, waving off Marty's apology. "Don't worry about it, Sully. I know you're not here that often anymore." He rolled his chair forward and jiggled a mouse. "Jones, was it?"

"Yeah," Chloe answered. "Elizabeth."

"Huh," he said, raising his eyes and examining her for a long moment. "I don't see you in the system. I'm sorry, but I can't let you inside."

"Crap," Marty said. He somehow managing to look embarrassed. "I forgot about her clearance. They're not expecting her until tomorrow. Sorry, Elizabeth. Guess I brought you all the way over here for nothing. This'll have to wait until they update the list."

"So what now?" Chloe frowned at him, trying to play her part. She could feel Darren's eyes still on her.

"Now I take you to your hotel," Marty said. He rubbed his beard. "Uh. Actually, is it alright if I grab a cup of coffee before we go? I could definitely use one right about now."

"Absolutely," Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder and steering him towards the break table. "You want anything, Dr. Jones?"

"No." She shook her head, then remembered her manners. "Thanks, I'm fine."

The two men moved aside and left her standing several feet in front of the desk. It was almost time. A shot of adrenaline coursed through her. She needed to get closer, she thought.

Hoping her nerves weren't as transparent as they felt, she risked a smile for Darren. He nodded in response, not at all unfriendly but still carefully watchful. It didn't feel like suspicion, but it was definitely a notch or two above simple curiosity.

"Hey," she said as an idea came to her. She gestured at his monitors with a hand she refused to let shake. "You get video on these things, right?"

He nodded again, eyes narrowing. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you could pull her up for me? The girl, I mean. I'm, uh, curious."

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and he cocked his head. His stare bored deeper. Sure that she had blown it, she let her hand begin creeping towards the gun. Just in time, the frown softened and and he shrugged his shoulders. She wondered if that might have been Marty's doing, but didn't want to glance over to check.

"Sure," he said, beckoning her towards him. He pointed to one of the screens as Chloe rounded the desk. "I have her right here. She keeps taking off the vitals monitors, but there's room sensors if you're interested. This is the same feed the doc gets."

Max occupied the whole screen, captured from many angles. She paced slowly, placing one foot deliberately in front of the other. Her mouth was drawn in a tight line, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. Numbers and symbols marched up the left side of the monitor, but Chloe paid them no mind. How could she, when Max was there to look at?

She felt her heart begin to pound, blood rushing through her ears. Her right hand rested on the back of Darren's chair, her left clutched the grip of the gun at the small of her back. Marty caught her eye above the line of monitors. He stood casually by the table while Jim gestured with the coffee pot, apparently in the middle of some story she hadn't been following. She swallowed nervously, then gave Marty a short, sharp nod.

His hand shot towards Jim's belt, but Chloe's eyes didn't linger. They were already swinging back to Darren as she yanked the gun free. She forced the barrel against his temple.

"Hands on the desk," she said. Triumph flashed when he obeyed immediately. Leaning in behind him, she went for his pistol with her free hand. Motion flickered on one of the other monitors and her gaze snapped over. Somewhere a woman was settling down behind a desk holding a paperback.

 _Shit_ , she thought as she fumbled with the clasp on his holster. They hadn't planned for that.

Darren surged up and backwards, propelling himself off the balls of his feet. There was an obscene crunch as the crown of his skull connected with her nose. She staggered back, her world suddenly blurry and bright with pain. Her shoulder blades hit a wall and she braced herself against it. It was a struggle to stay upright. Dimly she realized that Darren had turned. He was raising his arm towards her.

She fired her gun. It was held loosely and aimed more with hope than skill. The recoil sent pins and needles up her arm and the gun fell from numb fingers. The second gunshot answered immediately. It sounded muted and distant after the deafening crash of her revolver. Something punched her hard in the right shoulder.

She let herself sink to the floor while she watched Darren in horrified fascination. He dropped his gun and clutched at his neck with both hands. An alarming amount of red poured out from between his fingers. Wide and frantic eyes stared at her, disbelieving. She forced her own shut. There was no way she could watch this.

 _This is your fucking fault!_ she wanted to scream. Even though none of this would be real in the morning, she had prayed it wouldn't turn out like this. She wanted no part of these memories.

It seemed like seconds before somebody was at her side, a hand touching her gently on her good shoulder. She opened her eyes, unsure if she had been conscious or not. Her other shoulder throbbed terribly and shot tendrils of nausea through her gut. She tasted blood as she breathed through her mouth. A useless ball of pain seemed to occupy the space where her nose had been.

"Don't move," Marty said. His voice sounded quiet and far away under the ringing in her ears. He produced a pocket knife from somewhere and began cutting a slit in her turtleneck near where the bullet had entered. The once cream colored sleeve was now a vivid red. She watched his hands dully for a second before pushing them away.

"Stop," she said. "S'okay. Max'll rewind." She wasn't even sure what he meant to do. He held nothing except the knife.

"I know, but I don't want you bleeding out before we get to her."

"If I do, fucking keep going. No time for this shit." It hurt to speak, and she sounded like she had the worst cold imaginable. She slid her feet up towards her butt, gathering herself to stand. He sighed and took her by the good elbow. The pain as she jostled her arm was breathtaking, but she soon found herself standing on her own. The urge to retch passed as she caught her breath carefully.

Darren lay face down underneath the desk, unmoving. The office chair had spun away into the corner, its wheels trailing lines of red across the floor tiles. She looked up quickly, trying to force the image out of her mind.

A phone was ringing, she realized. It had been ringing for quite some time. She spotted a beige phone on the desk. A red light blinked next to its keypad. On the monitor, the woman she had seen earlier stood holding a handset to her ear. Even through the security camera, her concern was palpable. She must have heard the gunfire.

"She's a doctor, I think," Marty said. "Should've figured they'd have one on duty. Uh, she's gonna call somebody else when he doesn't answer. I figure we've got maybe ten minutes."

Chloe grunted, barely registering the information. Her eyes had been drawn instinctively to Max. The pacing had stopped. She stood in the center of the room, wringing her hands and staring fixedly at something near the bed. The fear on her face grabbed Chloe firmly by the heart. She was watching the clock on the bedside table, she realized.

 _It's okay, Max_ , she thought. _We're almost there_. The wall clock in the guard room read nine past two. Plenty of time left, she hoped.

"Let's go," she said, turning to Marty.

She needed a double take when she finally glimpsed his face. He had a nasty gash on one cheekbone and his beard shone with blood. The skin of his face and neck glowed an angry, lobster red.

"Fucker hit me with the coffee pot," he explained through already cracking lips.

"You deserved it, you piece of shit!" a voice yelled from nearby. "You are so fucked! I'm gonna kill you for this! You hear me, Sullivan?"

Chloe looked over and found Jim lying on his side amid broken glass and spilled coffee. Rage distorted his features. His arms were behind him, straining against the shackles that bound wrists to ankles. A spent taser lay on the ground nearby. She was suddenly, intensely grateful that everything had worked out. Marty had made a dangerous choice, going for the taser instead of the gun.

"Let's go," she said again, ignoring the outburst.

Marty nodded. Carefully keeping his shoes out of the blood, he bent down to retrieve a keyring from Darren's belt. He unlocked the inner door and held it wide for Chloe. She shuffled through, gritting her teeth and cautious of heavy steps. Any jolt brought agony screaming from her shoulder.

A short hallway extended to the right, tan-carpeted and white-walled. To their left was an elevator. He hit the button and the silver doors slid open with a soft and incongruous ding. Inside she saw bare and polished metal where the buttons should have been. Marty waved his keycard over a small red light set into the steel, turning it green. The doors closed and the elevator began to descend.

She really was bleeding quite badly, Chloe realized with a muted shock. She could feel rivulets trickling down her side and hear the drops off her fingertips splatting rhythmically against the elevator floor. _Ignore it,_ she told herself, driving away the animal part of her brain that shouted for her to do something. She had died before, many times. If it came down to it, what was one more death?

The door opened to reveal a hallway that ran well past the footprint of the building above. Bright and sterile, it felt more like a hospital than an office building. She lurched along reading the placards beside the doors. _Radiology_ , said one. _Microscopy_ another. This was where they did all their research, she remembered Marty telling her. Maybe that explained the security.

"God, I wish we had more time," he said.

"Whaddya mean?" she asked. It was difficult keeping up with his strides, and she tried not to waste too much breath.

"I wanna know what the fuck is going on." His pace slowed when he noticed her falling behind. He gestured with a motion that encompassed the entire basement. "Everything they know is here. If they lied to me about the landslide, what else are they hiding? We could find out if we just had the goddamn time."

"Is there anything we could take? Like computers maybe? Max can bring shit back with her." The words came out slightly slurry, like her tongue was too big for her mouth.

"Maybe," he said. "Let's get her out. Then we can talk about that."

A few more yards down the corridor he stopped next to a door labeled simply _Observation_.

"That doctor's probably in there," he said. "Let me go first."

She slumped wordlessly against the wall and caught her breath as he waved his keycard again. He cracked the door and peered inside.

"Were those gunshots?" a wavering voice asked. "Is everything ..?" It trailed off, the rest of the question unintelligible.

"Sit down, please," Marty told the doctor. He waited a moment before nodding to Chloe and pushing the door wide.

Inside the tiny office a woman sat calmly in her chair, watching them with blank, disinterested eyes. The room seemed to be half surveillance post and half doctor's office. Computer monitors and medical equipment took up equal space on the desk. Behind the doctor an unmarked door was set into the cinderblock wall.

The keypad on the door handle beeped as Marty punched in a long code. He pulled the door open, and there stood Max, exhausted and teary-eyed, dressed in a baggy hospital gown. Her face exploded into a wonderful smile and Chloe felt her own grin flourish in response. It made her nose hurt like all hell, but she could no more stop it then she could decide to stop breathing.

Max's headlong rush petered out before it even got started. She approached Chloe slowly, hand at her mouth. "Oh no," she whispered.

"I know, right?" Chloe answered. A laugh burst out of her and her shoulder protested with another gut-wrenching pulse of pain. She felt giddy, uncomfortably light-headed. "Those assholes wrecked my new clothes."

Max didn't even crack a smile. "I was so worried when I heard the guns. I didn't want you to have to do this over and over and over again."

"Only twice, Max. And I didn't even get shot the first time." Chloe reached out with her good arm and pulled her as tight as she dared. "I am so fucking happy to see you for real."

Max squeezed back gently and nodded against her neck.

"Uh, sorry," Marty interrupted. "But we kind of need to get moving."

"What, are you in a hurry or something?" Chloe asked, and couldn't stop herself laughing again. This time the pain nearly drove her unconscious. Her vision dimmed and she sagged hard against Max. It took a second to recover. "Actually, hurry," she said. "This really fucking sucks."

"Oh my god, yes," Max agreed, trying to get Chloe's arm over her shoulders. "Get me the hell outta here."

Their conversation was hard to follow as Max helped her towards the elevator. Something about records and hard drives and experiments. Reality kept skipping, leaving disconcerting gaps everywhere. Her heart felt like it was beating a thousand times a second and catching her breath was an impossibility. Mercifully, the pain seemed to be receding.

Chloe opened her mouth, tried to form words. She was uncertain what she meant to ask, but needed some sort of understanding about what they were doing, what the plan was. Her voice failed her, and suddenly the ground was approaching quickly. She heard Max's surprised yell before everything went black.

A rewind hit, pulling her to her feet and reversing her down the hallway. The dizziness didn't pass, but mingled and transformed, becoming part of what was already there. She staggered, her hand finding the wall while Max hurried back to her down the corridor.

"No," Chloe objected when she understood. She somehow found the breath for more words. "Don't rewind. Keep going. Be fine after."

"I know," Max said, helping her gently to the floor. "But I couldn't just leave you."

Of course she couldn't. Chloe let herself smile, nose be damned. The cool wall felt incredible against the back of her head and her shoulder didn't hurt quite so badly anymore.

Max's eyes glittered as she raised a hand to Chloe's cheek. "You're amazing," she said, and leaned in to press her lips against her forehead. "And I love you. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Love you," Chloe managed to gasp before she gave in. A soft oblivion swallowed her up whole.

 

* * *

 

The rewind spun her backwards out of the darkness. She came to herself with wonderfully painless surprise. She breathed deeply through her nose and flexed her shoulder before casting her eyes outward. The dashboard lights glowed and Marty tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.

"How much longer do we have to wait?" he asked. "It just ... Hey, what are you doing?" He flicked on the dome light and his head spun around, trying to follow what she was up to.

She had unbuckled herself and was climbing over the center console into the backseat. Her foot hit the gear-lever, but she decided not to care. Max was outside, and she would be inside any second.

A door opened, and Max dumped an armful of something onto the seat. A few laptops and a half dozen book-sized metal things that Chloe didn't recognize. Max hopped in after them, shoving them aside to make a space.

"Holy shit," Marty exclaimed, apparently noticing the blood on Max's clothes. "Are you okay? Do I need to go to the hospital?"

"No," Chloe said, unable to wipe the grin off her face. "It's all mine."

Max smiled back at her, pushing her way across the seat to bury her face in Chloe's neck. Chloe's arms responded reflexively, pulling as tight as they could go.

"I'm sorry," Max whispered. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through that."

"I can handle it," Chloe claimed, trying not to descend into tears. This wasn't the place for them, not with Marty eyeing them so completely. That could come later, when the two of them were alone and could properly think about everything that had happened. She wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around her friend

"Welcome back, Max," she whispered.


	11. Cracks

The sensation of the car rolling to a stop roused Chloe from a chaotic doze. She blinked sleepily, trying to clear her head. Lingering half-dreams scattered as she took a long breath and rubbed her eyes. They had been dreadful, full of gunfire and panicked, fruitless searching up and down endless hallways. It was a relief to be rid of them.

A snore from her lap brought a smile to her lips. Max, curled up and fast asleep. Chloe's old hoodie was wrapped snugly around her, covering the thin hospital gown her captors had dressed her in. Her face seemed peaceful in the moonlight. She hoped Max's dreams were kinder than her own had been. Max had seemed to find sleep almost effortlessly, but Chloe's mind still pulsed with echoes of adrenaline. Actual rest felt far away, despite all the hours she had been awake.

The moon was full, or very nearly so, and it lit the wooded hills around them, rendering the trees in silvery blacks and grays. Up ahead a police car blocked the way. It sat sideways across their lane, lights flashing. The headlights from Marty's Jeep spotlit a wooden sign at the edge of the road. _Welcome to Arcadia Bay_ , it read, a stylized rendition of the lighthouse off to one side.

"Um, that's not for us, right?" Chloe mumbled, eyeing the police car nervously. She tensed, coming fully awake as she remembered the asshole with the badge from the coffee shop parking lot.

Marty caught her eye in the rear-view mirror and shook his head. "Doubt it. There'd be more than one person if it was." He gestured towards the officer stepping out of his car. "Let's see what he has to say."

Chloe never expected to end up back in the Bay, but the idea had made sense when Marty suggested it. She and Max had reluctantly disentangled themselves in the car outside the Prescott building, and Max claimed Chloe's lap and sweatshirt almost immediately afterward. She drifted quickly off to sleep, but not before they discussed the stolen hard drives and laptops with Marty. Finding out what the Prescotts had been keeping from him instantly shot to the top of his priorities. That was unsurprising - it had been his idea in the first place, he just couldn't remember having it.

Getting at the information on the drives would be simple, he claimed. All they needed was a desktop computer and some cables. Even so, it didn't take long to realize how limited their options were. They could only find two - wait until stores opened in the morning, or drive the seventy-five miles back to Marty's house in Arcadia Bay. He didn't trust the idea of skulking around Portland until daybreak. The latter option seemed only marginally better, he said, but it was the obvious one. Max and Chloe tiredly agreed. Neither of them had been able to come up with something different.

Marty rolled down his window, letting a warm and strangely humid breeze rustle through the car. The officer sauntered up, his funny, flat-brimmed hat marking him as a state trooper. His flashlight was bright, but he held it pointed respectfully downward, away from Marty's face.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said in a bored voice, like he was following a script. "The area up ahead has been declared unsafe. The town is off-limits to the public. I have to ask you to turn around and go back the way you came."

"Unsafe? It's been fine since the storm." Marty's voice shifted registers and Chloe knew he was fiddling around inside the other man's mind. "C'mon, man. What's really going on?"

The policeman grinned and shook his head. "Beats me, but whatever it is, it's weird as hell." He started guiding his flashlight beam slowly around the inside of the Jeep, idly checking things out as he spoke. "I got posted out here at around ten o'clock, and when I showed up we still had a bunch of troopers over in the town proper. Making sure everybody evacuated, you know? My radio was going crazy from all their yelling. They were confused. Seeing things. Sounded pretty spooked, if you ask me."

"What sort of things?" Marty asked.

"Don't really know, but -" The flashlight passed over Max and instantly snapped back, lingering on her face. She cut off mid-snore and groaned at the brightness. "Like I said," the policeman continued in a tight voice. "I'm gonna need you to turn around and go back the way you came."

"Something wrong, officer?" Marty drawled.

There was a pause before the beam swung away. "I guess not," he replied. He chuckled softly to himself. "Sorry about that, miss. Thought you were someone else for a second there. Little jumpy tonight."

"Don't worry about it," Marty said. "Listen, we need to grab a couple things from my house. Won't take more than twenty minutes, then we're gone. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure thing. Take care, now." He stepped back and waved them onward with his flashlight. Marty pulled out into the other lane, tires riding the opposite shoulder as they passed the police cruiser and entered town.

"What the hell was that?" Max croaked, pushing herself upright. Chloe's thigh was suddenly cool where her head had lain.

"Roadblock," Chloe explained through a shaky breath. She was already high-strung with tension and the policeman's reaction to Max had wound her up even tighter. "They evacuated Arcadia Bay. Apparently people are seeing shit, or something."

"Oh. But what did he mean, he thought I was somebody else? Did he recognize me?"

Chloe began to nod, but Marty broke in. "Yeah, and it made him really nervous," he said. "He didn't try to bust you, though, so I'm willing to bet he had orders to call it in."

"Do you think he's gonna?" Chloe asked.

"Nope," he replied. His confidence took the edge off her nerves. "I made him think it was a mistake."

"But how did he know?" Max wondered.

"You've been gone for almost an hour and a half," Marty said. "Plenty of time for them to get a bulletin out. Probably statewide. Who knows what it says."

"They can do that?" Max asked. Chloe had to agree with her tone - it hardly seemed fair.

"They can do that," Marty confirmed.

Max sighed and leaned back, frowning out the window as she chewed at her lower lip. Houses began to appear along the road, half-crumbled shells that listed to the side and squatted sadly in the moonlight. The streetlights were dark in this part of town. There was no power here, and it would likely be months before it was turned back on again.

"They're a business, but that's not the only thing," Marty eventually said. Apparently the silence made him feel a need to elaborate. "A lot of it's about influence. Power. That's a big part of why they kept me around. I mean, it's probably obvious what I can do in a business setting. Negotiations and contracts and that kind of thing. But think about lobbying. Country clubs, official dinners, galas. Winning over important government assholes. County people, state people, even national. Hell, I have goddamn _congressmen_ on speed dial. They have a lot of -"

The seat belt pulled tight across Chloe's chest as Marty hit the brakes hard. He gawped at something out the window and Chloe craned her neck to follow his eyes. A man was making his way quickly through the debris on one lawn. Barefoot, dressed in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, he waved his arms frantically above his head as he tried to hail their car. The house behind him was in shambles. She could see the stars through the naked and skeletal framing of its roof. A heavy tree had toppled to crush the garage, its exposed roots splaying like fingers into the air.

Marty rolled down his window as the man approached, still waving his arms at them. He reached the car and clutched at the door, face wild.

"You've gotta help me," he begged. His voice was oddly distorted, as if it came from deep underwater, and it was impossible to look directly at him. Chloe's eyes kept slipping off, wanting to focus on some point behind him. "My family," he continued in a panicked, muffled gasp. "I woke up and they were gone. And our house ... I don't understand what happened. You need to -"

Bewildered, Chloe blinked slowly at the space where the man had stood. He was gone, she realized, without ever appearing to vanish. It almost felt like he had never been there. She released a slow breath she hadn't noticed she was holding.

"Guess we know what that cop meant by seeing shit," she said, meeting Max's shocked gaze.

Max nodded. Her eyes shone widely in the moonlight. "There's no way he was from here," she said in a voice strained with confusion. "From this reality, I mean. He didn't know about the storm. He had to have been from the Blackwell timeline. How could he even be here?"

Chloe shook her head as Marty set the car in motion. She couldn't begin to understand. Even guessing seemed futile. Max sat back, teeth still worrying at her lower lip.

"Is that what it was, do you think?" Marty asked. "Would they shut down the entire town because of that?"

"Maybe," Max answered. "Probably. If enough people started seeing things, there would be panic. Like, everywhere. And who knows what else could've been showing up."

She was right, Chloe thought. Seeing ghosts would be enough to scare the shit out of anybody. Especially if they were ghosts of people the storm had taken in this reality. The thought made her shiver. She wondered if that man was still alive somewhere in this timeline.

They soon passed out of the shadow of the storm, before long turning into what Chloe still thought of as Rachel's neighborhood. Streetlights burned brightly, bathing the houses in a warm, incandescent glow. It seemed too mundane, too familiar after everything they had witnessed. She was relieved to find their path wouldn't be taking them past Rachel's house. That would be too much - a cruel jab to crack the delicate balance she had managed to find since leaving Max's cell.

Marty flipped off the headlights as they neared a bend in the road. He shifted the car into neutral and slowed to a crawl before killing the engine.

"What are you doing?" Max asked, sitting up straight and leaning over to see out the windshield.

"Just paranoid, I hope," he replied as the Jeep rolled silently onward.

Marty hugged the curb as it coasted to a stop a few dozen yards later. His house was visible just up the road, slightly obscured by trees. It was dark and vacant, utterly still except for fallen leaves trickling across the lawn in the breeze. No other cars were nearby. Chloe stared for a long moment, eyes trying to burrow into every shadow. Everything looked exactly as she remembered, and she relaxed back against the seat.

Marty turned the key and the engine came to life. "You left the garage door up," he said when they neared his driveway. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," Chloe answered, feeling obliged to echo his sarcasm. "Your bathroom window's probably open, too. You should be more careful when you lock up. Somebody could break in."

He laughed as he pulled into the garage and set the handbrake. "I'm almost positive you're the first person to try."

The girls followed him inside and up the stairs to his office, arms laden with stolen electronics. He paused just inside the door and regarded the crowbar lying forgotten on the hardwood floor. A single drawer hung out of the desk, split along its top edge where Chloe had pried it open retrieving the envelope after Max's big rewind.

Marty shot her a quizzical glance and rolled his eyes at her shrug. She tried not to think about how far she had gone with the crowbar before Max took it all away. Very little had escaped her fury. With an inward wince, she remembered the burst of frustration that had driven her to smash his computer. They would be screwed right now if Max hadn't rewound away her search.

"Okay," Marty said, going for a closet while Max and Chloe deposited the laptops and drives on his desk. "If these are from lab computers, most of it will be unreadable. I have no idea what formats their equipment saves its data in, and we wouldn't understand what it meant even if we had the software to open it. So we need to look for text documents. Pictures and video, too, if we can find any."

"Wait," Max said. Marty paused at the closet door and looked at her curiously. "Did you really think there might be somebody here? Should we be worried?"

He sighed and shook his head before squatting and digging in the closet. "I didn't expect it, but it wouldn't have been impossible. There's a decent chance they realize I could've helped you after the thing at the Chase house, and I doubt I was acting normally when I went in to, uh, interview you." He turned around to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry, by the way. I mean that. I didn't exactly have a choice."

"It's okay," Max replied, showing a lot more equanimity that Chloe could have managed. "How would they guess that you helped us?"

"They know you got a ride somehow," he explained. He dragged out a cardboard box and carried it towards the desk trailing wires. "At first they assumed there'd been another car at the house, that everybody there had driven away together. But somebody reported a car stolen near Arcadia Bay barely two hours later. That doesn't happen often around here. The timing couldn't have been a coincidence. And if you were stealing a car, that meant you didn't have one. You had to have gotten there somehow."

Chloe saw the connection. "You weren't with them at Victoria's. You called in, told them you were going home."

He nodded as he began removing screws from the back of one of the laptops. "It's not exactly evidence, but anybody looking would notice the possibility. And they already didn't completely trust me. Remember I told you I tried to quit earlier this year? They've acted strange ever since."

"Okay, they knew about the car. They were looking for it. I get that part." Max's brow was lined with concentration. "But how did they know I was even involved? They were there for Nathan, and you said they had no idea who I was."

"Facebook is one of the things they checked for background," he answered, attention still on the screwdriver in his hands. Chloe and Max exchanged perplexed glances before he continued. "Chloe's name was on her car registration. They looked her up and saw you two were friends. It let them finally put a name to the face from their dreams. Your face. And you were almost the only person in common between Chloe and the Chase girl. They realized you might've been there."

"That was one lucky fucking guess." Chloe scowled. It suddenly felt like cruel and arbitrary chance that had gotten Max taken in Olympia.

"It wasn't really a guess," Marty said. "The old man put it together, from what I understand. He's, uh, good at that sort of thing. Pattern recognition. Extrapolation."

Her stomach twisted. "Fuck me," she swore tiredly. "Please don't mean supernaturally good."

He grimaced at her before crouching down to slide his computer tower out from beneath the desk. A panel popped off after a few twists of his fingers.

Frustration boiled over as she watched. "What the fuck, dude?" she yelled. "Are you serious right now? ' _Hey, so_ _this_ _superpowered asshole_ _is_ _out to get us and_ _he's_ _totally_ _suspicious of me. Let's just go to my fucking house and fucking wait for_ _him_ _._ ' How was this a good idea? Why didn't you say anything?"

One hand rubbed his eyes as he stood and took a deep breath. "Look, if they actually knew I had something to do with you, they never would've let me leave the building after I talked to Max. We'll be fine, okay?"

Chloe threw up her arms and spun away in disgust. This was almost too much for her frayed nerves to handle.

"They didn't know then, but that doesn't mean they don't know now," Max pointed out, calm as ever. "If they were suspicious, they would've investigated. Like, followed you or searched your apartment or something."

"Exactly," Chloe said. She jabbed a finger for emphasis. "We need to go. Now."

"If they followed me, they would've grabbed us as soon as you turned up at my building. And there's nothing in my apartment that points to this. There's nothing _anywhere_ that points to this."

There was a strained silence until Marty seemed to diminish under Chloe's stare. He scratched his beard and winced sheepishly.

"Alright," he conceded. "I'm outnumbered, I guess. But it'll take hours to read through all of this. If we're not staying, we need to figure out something else."

"Do we still have my laptop?" Max asked after a moment.

"Yeah, it's in your backpack in the Jeep," Chloe answered. "I brought all the important crap with me when I ditched the Honda."

"Could we maybe put the files on that?" Max suggested, looking at Marty hopefully.

"More work than it sounds," he replied. "But I know I have external drives here somewhere. I could transfer anything readable onto them. We could take it all with us, look through it later on your laptop. It would still take a little time, though."

Max was still, eyebrows bunched together in thought. "Okay," she nodded. "We can't stay long, but I actually think we'll be safe here for a little bit. I can rewind if anybody comes." Chloe tried to object, but Max pulled lightly on her hand and met her eyes. "We're not even sure that they know anything. And if they do, why would they connect him to me getting out? All they saw was me just disappear. There's no way this is the first place they'd look."

That made sense, even if it wasn't particularly comforting. "As long as you're sure," Chloe reluctantly agreed. She swung her eyes over to glare at Marty.

"Sorry," he said before she could open her mouth. "I get it. I should've said something. I still think we'd be fine, but I get it. I was just focused on this shit. Didn't really stop to think." He frowned down at the mess of cables and drives on the desk in front of him.

Chloe yawned in response. Hostility was fading quickly. The energy to sustain it seemed beyond her. She looked around the room dully as he dug into the cardboard box.

"Is nobody gonna tell me what you guys meant about Prescott?" Max wondered from beside her.

The conversation from the motel flashed through Chloe's mind. She turned back to Marty as facts clicked together. "The lake thing in Cameroon," she guessed, nodding at his confirming glance.

"Oh," Max said dryly. "That explains everything." The sarcasm was an obvious attempt to settle her nerves, but Chloe sensed her irritation.

"Sorry, Max," Chloe apologized. "We talked while we waited to go get you. He said, uh ..." It was hard to know where to start, and she looked to Marty for guidance.

He nodded and began speaking, repeating everything he had told her the afternoon before. He worked while he spoke, and his sentences were short and clipped as he divided his attention. The chaos on his desk quickly came to order. Two wires snaked out of the computer on the floor, connecting a laptop hard drive to the guts of the machine. Directories flicked past on the screen as he scrolled through looking for readable files.

Max's expression was thoughtful after he finished. "Do you remember the emails?" she asked Chloe. "The weird ones Prescott sent to Nathan? He talked about guiding him into something, like his father did for him. It fits. If he did something, changed Nathan somehow, then _his_ father must've done it for him, too. Back in the eighties."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed, distracted. Imagining Prescott with some sort of power was beyond worrying. "You said pattern recognition?" she asked Marty. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's what he calls it," he answered. "You could probably say ESP or whatever, but he doesn't like the supernatural flavor that stuff has. If you've ever seen Sherlock, it's a lot like that but nowhere near as impressive. He makes connections other people miss. Predictions. It's why they took his warning about Nathan coming back seriously."

"It's also why you need to hurry," Chloe told him. "We don't wanna be here if he figures us out."

He grunted in response. For a time the only sound in the room was the clicking of his mouse.

"Do you have any clothes I could wear?" Max asked out of nowhere. "This is actually a little gross."

Chloe glanced down. She had forgotten about the mess she had made before Max rewound. Droplets of blood had spattered the pale blue cotton that hung loosely around Max's legs. A larger smear peeked out from behind the zipper of the old hoodie.

"Sorry," Marty said, still focused on the computer monitor. "Don't have anything here. It's all in Portland."

"All I have is what I wore yesterday," Chloe said. "And we don't exactly have time for laundry."

"It's gotta be cleaner than this," Max said, gesturing at herself.

"Hope so," Chloe replied. She nudged her with an elbow. "C'mon. Our stuff's in the Jeep."

They plodded down the stairs into the living room, feet heavy on the steps. A leather couch sat alone in front of a glass coffee table. The only other piece of furniture was a long, low bookcase against the far wall. Above it hung an expensive looking television, its wires running in a neat bundle down to the baseboard. Chloe waved a hand at the couch and Max flopped onto it bonelessly.

She checked a window on the way to the garage, parting the blinds with thumb and forefinger to peer cautiously into the darkness. Max seemed convinced that they had nothing to worry about, at least for the time being, but Chloe wasn't so sure. Nothing seemed to be moving, and she let the blinds snap back together as she turned and began to walk down the hall.

It took barely any time at all to grab the clothes from the car, and within a few seconds Chloe strolled back into the living room, t-shirt and jeans balled up under her arm. She placed the bundle on Max's lap as she collapsed onto the couch next to her.

"You can have this preppy crap instead, if you want," Chloe offered as she tugged at the sweater around her neck. "I'm pretty over it."

"No thanks. Turtlenecks are actual torture." Max smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Plus I kinda like it on you."

"Yeah?" Chloe felt herself grin in response. Maybe she wasn't over the outfit, after all.

"Not as like a permanent thing, but yeah." Max stood and shrugged out of the hoodie, letting it drop to the ground. "It looks good."

The bloody gown quickly joined the sweatshirt on the floor. A strange but welcome warmth filled her as she watched Max throw on the worn t-shirt and jeans. The terror and madness of the day past had scoured away something inside her, had left her empty and fragile. Whatever it was that had been lost, she could feel it returning, bright and soothing.

Max rolled up the overlong pant legs and cinched the belt tight. One hand on her hip, she tried a cursory pose, showing off almost as an afterthought.

"Speaking of looking good," Chloe joked. The words came out a little thick, and she swallowed a lump in her throat she hadn't noticed was there.

Grabbing a hand, Max joined her on the couch. She wove their fingers together. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Chloe replied cautiously. It was even true, she realized after a second of thought. She was exhausted and starving, still more scared than she had ever been before last Friday, but the shock and pain from Prescott's building seemed far away with Max this close. It no longer felt like she might shatter at the gentlest push.

"At least better than I was," Chloe continued, a little more certain. "God, Max, I was so scared that it wouldn't work. That I wouldn't be able to get you out. I couldn't stop thinking about you stuck in there."

Max leaned into her with a long sigh. Something didn't feel right, Chloe noticed. It came to her a moment later, settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Someday soon, and there was no way to guess when, another Max would get her hands on the picture that had been taken of them in the coffee shop parking lot. She would use it, and this Max would be overwritten, would vanish completely.

"Are _you_ okay?" Chloe asked. A twinge of guilt surfaced that she hadn't recognized it sooner.

The pause was long enough to make Chloe anxious. "I think so," Max finally said. Her eyes were fixed on their hands where they lay in her lap. "There was a lot of time to think while I was waiting. I know I'm ... temporary, but that's okay, I think."

Last Thursday night, while they waited for David in Chloe's bedroom, Max had explained to her that she wouldn't last. That a different version of herself would take over, probably before the night was out. Chloe had understood on a literal level, but she hadn't fully grasped what it meant for Max. She had been too choked with grief and anger to be able to picture it happening, to imagine how it might be to face that certainty. Now it was awful to think about.

"It's _not_ okay," Chloe told her. "I wish it didn't have to be like this."

"I does, though," Max said. "It's the only way for you to still be alive."

Guilt twisted again, sharper than before. The thought that this was happening because of her was inescapable. It rattled around accusingly inside her head.

She must have made a sound, because Max gave her hand a shake. "Stop," she said. "I know what you're thinking. You can't blame yourself for anything those people did to us."

"I know," Chloe acknowledged. "It's just not fair that you have to keep going through this shit. I fucking hate it."

"I'd do it again in a second if it meant keeping you alive. I'd make the exact same choice every time, even knowing the consequences."

 _Why?_ came unbidden to her lips, but Chloe bit back the word. She knew why, even though it still felt hard to believe. Even now, it was strange and wondrous. She gripped Max's hand a little tighter, relaxing slightly at the answering squeeze.

"Maybe it'll be different this time," Max said. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"How do you mean?"

"There were three of me in that cell," she explained. "At the same time, I mean. The one from San Francisco and the one they took from the coffee shop after you got shot. They were in different realities, but it felt like we were all in the room together. I could feel their thoughts, especially the one from the coffee shop. She's closer than the others for some reason. And I can still feel her, like I know she can feel me. When she uses the picture, part of her is gonna stay in her timeline and part of her is gonna turn into me. But she'll remember some of this reality, even though she's not from here. So maybe it'll be more like changing instead of ... disappearing."

"I hope so." It almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself, but if that made it easier, Chloe wasn't about to object. She deserved any comfort she could find.

Chloe kicked her boots up onto the coffee table and let her head fall back against the couch cushion. Despite everything, her eyes quickly grew heavy. The couch was supremely comfortable and Max's weight was warm and reassuring against her side. She wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for days, but she knew that dream was far away.

Max jerked upright next to her. She rubbed her eyes with her fists.

"What's wrong?" Chloe asked.

"Nothing," Max said, suppressing a yawn. "But I might need to rewind. I've gotta stay awake or it might not work. I don't know if I can rewind what happens while I'm asleep."

"Oh." That had never occurred to Chloe, but it made sense in a way. The idea that Max's powers were tied to memory wasn't a new one.

"They saw me teleport," Max said. "At the coffee shop the first time, when I rewound before you got shot. So they keep me sedated. Like, heavily and all the time. It's hard to rewind in that reality, maybe because I've barely been awake."

Chloe grimaced, nervous for that other Max. It was hard to envision her ever getting far enough from her cell to find the photograph she needed to create this timeline. The struggle seemed unimaginable.

The silence was broken by a loud grumble from Chloe's stomach. She grinned self-consciously when Max turned to face her.

"Me too," Max said. She returned the smile, even though it didn't quite touch her eyes. "Do you think there's anything to eat?"

"Maybe." Chloe stood and pulled Max to her feet. "Let's find out."

In the kitchen, Max slipped onto a tall stool at the breakfast island. Elbows on the granite counter-top, she rested her chin in her hands and watched while Chloe foraged. There wasn't much to find. The fridge was as empty as she remembered and the cupboards weren't much better.

"Okay," Chloe said, staring glumly at the almost bare pantry. "Tonight's specials are canned soup and instant oatmeal. Cream of mushroom and, uh, apple cinnamon."

"Ew." Max made a face. "Definitely oatmeal."

"Ew is right," Chloe said, taking a couple steps to grab some bowls she had noticed earlier. "Nobody's ever eaten that shit on purpose. Except Marty, apparently."

Max's gaze followed her as she moved around the kitchen tearing packets and filling bowls. Chloe tossed their meals into the microwave and jabbed the _minute_ button a few times. The machine hummed to life and its tray began to spin.

"I like having you cook for me," Max said from behind her. "Even if it is just oatmeal."

"Enjoy it," Chloe said, turning and leaning against the counter. "This is about as fancy is it gets."

"I know that's not true," Max said. Her eyes were warm behind the exhaustion and worry. "We used to make some pretty awesome pancakes when we were kids."

"We did, didn't we?" Chloe mused. _Awesome_ was being generous, but she decided it didn't matter. "A lot of that was Dad, though."

"Yeah, he did have to save us a few times," Max said. "We pretty much just made a gigantic mess until we got a little older."

"Did we ever not make a gigantic mess?" Chloe wondered.

Max shook her head, echoing the same tired smile that Chloe could feel herself wearing. They shared a look for a few moments before Chloe stirred. The uneasiness about staying here had yet to fade. Her nerves objected to keeping still. They sent her feet moving and she began to pace idly around the kitchen.

The sliding door to the deck was a dark portal set into one wall. She stepped up to the glass and squinted out into the night. The moon was bright enough to let her make out the back yard through her cupped hands. Branches swayed and leaves scuttled across the lawn in the breeze, but nothing seemed out of place. She hoped Marty was hurrying upstairs. If they did actually have time, they definitely didn't have forever.

The microwave beeped, pulling her away from the door. She grabbed their food and claimed a stool next to Max. There was no response when Chloe slid a bowl along the stone counter. Max stared sightlessly ahead, her face lax and expressionless.

"Shit," Chloe swore, bristling at the unfairness of it all. This was just one more thing that Max shouldn't have to go through anymore. Food forgotten, she scooted her stool closer and placed a hand gently on Max's back.

After a moment, Max tensed and relaxed under Chloe's hand. Her eyes blinked around the room, taking it in as if she had just woken up.

"You okay?" Chloe asked. Her hand rubbed softly back and forth.

"Yeah," Max said. She released a breath and stared down into her oatmeal. "She knows you're here, in Arcadia Bay. The me at Blackwell, I mean. She just dreamed about this." Her hand waved vaguely. It was hard to tell what the gesture was meant to signify.

"Is _she_ okay?" Chloe asked, not quite wanting the answer. There was something worryingly vulnerable in Max's voice.

Max shook her head slowly. "She tried to take it back, what she did to you. Like, almost immediately. Saturday, before she realized what was going on. You didn't deserve what happened and she couldn't handle it. She still can't."

"What she did to me? Max, it was _my idea_. I _asked_ you to do it."

"I know," Max replied. She hesitated before meeting Chloe's eyes, shrinking slightly as she continued. "But I messed up. I should've said no. I realized it that first night after the storm, the one we spent sitting in the back of your truck at the motel. I was so unbelievably relieved that you were alive, that I got to be with you some more. It's selfish and fucked up and kinda scary, but that's how I feel. It's how she feels. She tried to trade the town for you. She wanted to get you back."

A week ago that might have appalled her. It was almost unimaginably selfish, but it somehow didn't feel wrong to hear Max say it. With a jolt, Chloe realized she would make exactly the same choice. She would trade Arcadia Bay for Max, and it wasn't even particularly close.

"Me too," Chloe told her. It needed to be said. There was a reluctance to Max's words, as if admitting how she felt might taint the way Chloe saw her. She understood why Max had been slow to bring it up. "I feel the same way, I mean," she finished quietly.

Max nodded. A relieved smile flashed briefly before fading away to nothing. "She tried to use the butterfly picture again, but she couldn't make it work. And it wasn't like the lighthouse, when I made a new timeline and didn't know it. This was just ... nothing happened. Old pictures didn't work either. And she even took a new one, just to make sure that she couldn't do it anymore. It was just like in San Francisco, before I drove all the way back here. I tried to use pictures from my journal but couldn't find one that worked." She paused for a second, a vaguely surprised look crossing her face. "They other versions of me haven't tried, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be able to, either."

Chloe could see where Max's thoughts were heading. "Except the one from the coffee shop," she said. "She can. Or she will be able to."

"Yeah," Max said. "Our timeline is different for some reason. I know the others dream about me. They can feel me, but _only_ me. And they don't get these weird blackouts, or whatever. At least the one that's with the other you said she didn't. I'm not sure yet what's up with the me from the coffee shop."

"What's different?" Chloe asked. "If one of you has to be special, shouldn't it be the final one? The one from Blackwell? You got left behind, just like all the others."

Max's eyes widened after a second. "Did I, though?" she wondered, spinning her stool to fully face Chloe. "Okay, so every time I used a picture, I _wanted_ it to work, like more than anything. I was saving your life, or saving my life, or taking back what got you paralyzed. _Except for at the lighthouse._ God, I wanted to stay with you so bad. That was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. I tried to go back and let you die, like really tried, but I didn't actually _want_ to leave you."

"You think you chose this timeline? Like, made another one, but just stayed here? Left the Blackwell you behind?"

"Maybe?" Max shrugged. "Maybe choice is part of it. Maybe there's still stuff we don't know. Maybe this version of me _is_ special for some reason."

"You're special for all sorts of reasons," Chloe said. It was a reflex, flirting to disguise her nerves, but it pulled a grin out of Max.

"Shut up and eat your oatmeal, you dork," she said, shoving Chloe lightly before spinning back to face the counter.

Chloe shut up and dug in. It could hardly be called tasty, but at least it was warm and filling. The spoon rattled in the empty bowl as she pushed it away from her.

"Okay," she started. Trying to wrap her mind around all the timelines was starting to make her head hurt. "So if you're right then wouldn't Coffee Shop Max be the, uh, special one, or whatever? She's the one that's gonna use the picture."

Max shrugged again, swallowing a mouthful before answering. "Maybe? But she technically hasn't actually done it yet. And when she _does_ create this timeline, it's gonna be the one she chooses. So who knows how that works, or if I'm even right."

A shiver passed over her. The idea that they were living in a timeline that shouldn't exist yet was disturbing on a fundamental level. Reality suddenly seemed thin and tenuous. She shook off the feeling, tried to force herself to ignore it.

Footsteps sounded heavily on the steps, and after a moment Marty appeared at the kitchen door. A gym bag was slung over his shoulder.

"Hey," Chloe said. She pointed a finger at the box she had left on the counter. "Your oatmeal kinda sucks, but there's still some left if you want any."

He shook his head. "No thanks. It's time to go."

"Already?" Max asked. "Did everything go okay?"

"Yeah, there just wasn't as much as I thought there would be. Still a lot, though." He patted the gym bag where it hung near his waist. "Saved all the drives in case we need them later. But that's not why we have to leave."

He took a couple steps and slid his phone onto the counter between him. The girls glanced down to find a text message looking back at them.

 

**Boss Lady 10/18 4:06 am**

_Call me. It's not too late to fix this._

 

Chloe resisted the temptation to point out how right she had been. "Boss Lady?" she asked.

"Prescott's niece," Marty explained. "Inside joke."

"Uh, because she's the boss?" Chloe guessed, mocking him half-heartedly.

"And a lady?" Max added.

"I didn't say it was a good joke." He frowned at them and shoved the phone in his pocket. "Look, that came from her personal phone, not her work one. She might've sent that on her own. I don't know what the hell she's trying to do."

"Are you gonna call her?" Max asked.

"Hell no. She could be trying to lure me somewhere. Or lure _you_ somewhere, if they've made that connection. And I don't even want her help if she's actually being genuine. I'm fucking done with those people. I made that decision the second I asked you to get in my car, and I haven't changed my mind."

Max slid down from her stool and stood quietly for a moment. "Where do we go now?" she asked.

"Anywhere but here," Chloe muttered on a tired breath. She let her head fall forward onto crossed arms, overwhelmed by the idea of getting back in the Jeep. All she wanted was to stop moving, to find somewhere she could actually rest for the first time in days.

A hand touched her shoulder. She turned her head to find Max at her side. Her weariness was unmistakable, but she met Chloe's eyes with a determined look.

"Let's go," she said, pulling gently on Chloe's arm.

Chloe nodded as she stood and found Max's hand. Together they followed Marty through the house and out to the car. The moon shone brightly as they returned to the deserted and silent streets of Arcadia Bay.


End file.
